


Getting There

by appending_fic



Series: Going Somewhere [2]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Accidental Engagement, Affection, Anal Sex, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Biting, Boundaries, Communication, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Dress Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Alive, First Dates, First Time, First Time Topping, Flirting, Insecurity, Kissing, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-04-29 02:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14463417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: Firsts in the relationship between Starlord and Rocket - where the Nova Corps administrative staff knows more about Rocket's love life than he'd prefer, Rocket is eager to demonstrate his sexual prowess, at least one person ends up crying more than a couple of times, and Rocket debates what constitutes 'piracy'.





	1. First Date

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't seen Infinity War (though note the first part in this series is tagged 'everyone lives', so make with that what you will), but seen people freaking out so am posting the first chapter here while I'm trying to work up the energy to edit the smuttier chapters.

After that, things got weird. Quill didn't mention Rocket's little breakdown, but the way he treated Rocket changed. The first time he saw Rocket outside his (their) room each day, he'd greet Rocket with with a kiss, in varying levels of intensity and enthusiasm. Which, you know, fine. Quill wanted to convince everyone he didn't see Rocket as some sort of toy or pet.

He'd looked up from work on his guns to find Quill standing in the door to his workshop (Rocket had yet to actually move his workbench from his room to Quill's, though there was now a locker full of firearms at the foot of Quill's bed), watching him. Sometimes he had this dumb smile on his face, or looked seriously engrossed in watching Rocket work. Occasionally, he'd look a little zoned, and Rocket would have no idea what Quill was thinking.

And then there was the touching. He never did anything as stupid as sneaking up on Rocket (ha! like he could manage), but even in passing, Quill would touch Rocket when he was nearby. Sometimes more of the same shit the whole team did - hand on the arm, shoulder, head. Sometimes, touches he'd bite the hand off of anyone else who tried. Back of the neck, muzzle, belly (that was for movie night, when Quill showed off the vast library of Terran films he'd convinced one of the kids to get him, and Rocket claimed Quill's lap as his territory). Touches that never failed to feel good, even if Rocket had been forced to threaten the lives of his best friends if they ever suggested he'd 'purred' when Quill rubbed his belly.

Okay, Rocket wasn't stupid. Quill had _said_ he was attracted to Rocket. And yes, sometimes, Quill's hands drifted in public. And maybe Quill got a little handsy when they were flying, during the lulls when neither of them needed to pay close attention to their surroundings. And _yeah_ , Quill seemed to enjoy making out with Rocket, both in bed and in whatever moments of privacy they could find outside.

So most signs pointed to Quill having been honest about seeing Rocket as a real partner.

 _Most_.

Because Rocket couldn't. Flarking. Get. Anywhere. He had made a careful study of Quill, his likes, his dislikes. He knew Quill liked the scrape of Rocket's teeth, nips that he could feel but didn't draw blood. He knew Quill liked having his belly rubbed more than Rocket did, though seemed happy to have Rocket's hands on him anywhere (this was not true; he didn't enjoy having Rocket poke at his mouth). He knew clambering up Quill to get at whatever part of him he wanted at the moment was generally acceptable, though flying leaps were a bad idea if Quill had his guard down (in a fight, apparently, Quill was aware enough of Rocket's presence to handle being a ramp, prop, or landing platform at any given moment).

But every time he thought Quill might really get down to it, he paused, pulled back, and asked, "How far are we going?"

So Quill had no idea what he wanted, and it was infuriating, leaving Rocket more or less constantly horny.

That state of existence didn't normally leave Rocket snappish, but he wasn't usually in such close quarters with the source of the problem.

So when Quill cornered Rocket the night before they were scheduled to land on Xandar (regular visits to a planet whose government saw them as useful occasional saviors gave the team time to research, shop, or recuperate with less need for caution), Rocket was more than a little on edge. Rocket had retreated to the workshop because working on upgrades to their guns and the gadgets that made their lives a little more bearable kept him distracted from the urge to grab Quill and embarrass himself.

So when Quill stopped by the door, watching Rocket (and just the awareness of Quill's gaze on him was enough to set a low buzz under Rocket's skin now), Rocket ignored him for about as long as he could manage without offending the man he loved (not that anyone knew).

"What's up, Quill?"

"So, we're going planetside in like eight hours-"

"So?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to head out somewhere while we're docked."

"I was planning to hit the tech district, see if I can get any spare parts."

"I meant, together? Like you and me? Make a night of it?"

"Sure, yeah, if you want to tag along."

"Ah. Right." There was something in Quill's voice, a tone that Rocket didn't have the energy to place; he didn't linger long after, however, so Rocket didn't have a chance to ask. He'd only just calibrated a digital timer when something about Peter's wording struck him.

_Make a night of it…_

"What the _hell_ , Quill?" Quill was in the galley, with a full audience, because of course he was; he glanced up from his Zune, eyebrows raised, as Rocket stormed toward him. Halfway across the room, Rocket decided this was not a conversation he wanted to have yelling at Quill from the ground, and vaulted onto the table, because he rarely had a height advantage.

"Hey, Rocket?" 

Rocket was not going to be put off by Quill's hesitant tone as he stormed across and poked him in the chest. "What's with all the 'head out somewhere' bullshit? Why didn't you come right out and ask me out on a date?"

"Oh." Quill gave Rocket a slightly easier smile. "You didn't seem enthused by the idea last time I mentioned it."

And Rocket felt his face grow hot; _he_ remembered the last time the subject had come up, and _Quill_ obviously remembered, given his choice of words asking Rocket out. He folded his arms and tried to still the lashing of his tail, though it was clearly too late to pretend everyone hadn't seen it.

"Is everything okay?" There was an edge to Gamora's voice, reminding Rocket _they had an audience_ , and this was flarking embarrassing.

"Everything's fine-"

"I was talking to Rocket, Peter." And Gamora's voice was icy, controlled. She stepped around into Rocket's field of vision, and she was obviously tense, something tightly controlled as she peered down at Rocket. She glanced at Mantis and Drax. "In fact, why don't you step outside-"

Rocket almost laughed when it clicked, because it was so flarking absurd. "Cool it, nothing's wrong," he said. Gamora's eyes were still narrow, suspicious, so he took a step forward, patted her hand. "It's _fine_ ; I just don't wanna be having this conversation in public, okay?"

Rocket leapt off the table and headed for his room. Quill followed, though Rocket heard a quiet grumble of, " _I_ wasn't the one who started yelling at people in the galley."

Rocket led Quill back to his own room, unwilling to cede the upper hand to someone who couldn't work up the coherence to straight up ask a dude out. He wrinkled his nose as they stepped inside, the place smelling faintly of dust. Rocket sauntered to his bed, leaning against the frame, trying to ignore how his one-time bolthole felt cold, too wide. It had been a long time since he'd holed up here when needing somewhere away from everyone; burrowing himself in a bed that smelled like Quill was much more comforting than hiding in a fort made of old munitions boxes. And on top of that, in the rare case Quill didn't know whether Rocket wanted to be left alone by him in addition to everyone else, he'd _ask_.

"Rocket?" Quill sounded worried, as he stepped around the bed, out of arm's reach and in the center of Rocket's vision. Cautious.

Rocket realized with a start how tensely he was holding himself, and tried to relax. It mostly worked, though the tip of Rocket's tail wouldn't stop twitching. "I'm fine," he grumbled.

"If you don't want to go out, we don't have to-"

"Nuh-uh. You promised me a 'wine and dine', Baby Boo, so that's what we're doing." He pushed himself back up and sauntered toward Quill, a little more confident now that he wasn't acting as impromptu entertainment for the rest of the crew. "Whatever the hell a 'wine' is, it better be pretty flarking awesome."

Quill was smirking in the way that meant Rocket had tripped over some stupid Terran slang, but not quite as maliciously as when Spider-Punk had heard Quill call him 'Ranger Rick'.

"What?"

"Wine's fancy Terran alcohol."

"So you're gonna feed me and get me quality booze? Get me a chance to beat someone up, and it's practically the perfect evening."

Quill was smiling, less smug and more...whatever the hell that soft expression on his face meant. "I mean, it's Xandar, so fighting's probably out…"

And yeah. That's what had gotten them into this whole mess in the first place (on the balance? Probably worth it, but Rocket didn't want to try his luck a second time). So Rocket smiled, probably a little more toothily than was warranted. "You're stuck with me anyway, Baby Boo, so don't work yourself up over it." And there it was again, that wide, bright smile.

"Nah, I'll be fine. _You're_ going to have an amazing night."

Rocket didn't know if Quill meant to sound suggestive, but he _remembered_ what had originally prompted Quill's mention of going out, and he would not deny that ending the evening with Quill's dick in his mouth _would_ be a great end to even a mediocre date. But the words made him shiver a little, which he tried to cover up with a cocky grin.

"Anyway, I'm gonna crash so I'll be fresh from the landing, keep my co-pilot from getting us all killed. Later." Rocket froze as he realized Quill was standing between him and the door. But his heart didn't start racing, his fingers didn't itch for a gun; the thought of Quill being a danger to him was nearly as ludicrous as Groot being one. So he hopped up to grab Quill's shirt as he passed, dragging him down for a brief kiss, and strode out to their room to curl up in bed. He dozed there, surrounded by comfortable scents, until the subtle shift of the ship emerging into normal space alerted him to their impending landing.

He padded out to the cockpit, still drowsy, to join Quill at the controls. Quill glanced sidelong at him and grinned, all teeth.

"Get enough sleep?"

"Can it," Rocket grumbled before clambering into the co-pilot's seat. Nothing seemed to have gone horribly wrong, so he leaned back while Quill brought them close enough for the Nova Corps to hail them.

"Hey, this is Peter Quill of the Quadrant; we need clearance to land."

"Starlord? Hey, sure, we've got you down in Delta-Gamma-3. Nice place; got any plans while you're here?"

"I've got a hot date with my co-pilot. Say hi to the nice air traffic controller, Rocky."

"What - Quill, no, that's stupid. Can we just get a flarking vector?" Quill was grinning, though, as he brought the ship in toward their destination. "What's with you?"

"You're not mad, are you?" Which was a weird question, because Quill didn't _look_ like he thought Rocket was mad. 

"For what? Telling a government employee my business over an open comm channel?" And okay, that sounded like something Rocket _would_ be furious at. "It's fine, Baby Boo. Didn't expect you to come out and say something like that." 

"Like what?"

"You know...that you're…" Rocket shrugged, ducking his head, aware this was getting old. "Come on, you know that shit about you and me's gonna be all over the Nova Corps administrative pool by the end of the week."

"Huh. That'll probably cut down on the flirting." When Rocket didn't respond, Quill reached out and scratched, ooh, the back of his neck. "Come on, I'm not going to waste my time or upset you pretending we're not...anything." Rocket grumbled under the gentle touch, rather than respond, because he knew Quill was getting sick of hearing Rocket's continued certainty Quill didn't want to be seen with him. Head down, he busied himself with keeping the ship stable while Quill brought it down. Quill's hand was still on the back of his neck, perilously close to the first set of scars, but Rocket let it go. It was probably impossible to keep Quill away from the scars in a long run, so he might as well get used to it. Besides, Quill put up with enough of Rocket's hang-ups.

Quill yanked his hand back when Gamora entered the cockpit. "If we're here, I need Rocket to help me on a munitions run."

Rocket glanced at Quill, who held up two fingers.

"Fine," Rocket replied, hopping down onto the deck floor. "As long as you don't spend an hour and a half checking out gun specs. I've got a date in two hours."

Gamora raised an eyebrow, inquisitive, and Rocket stalked past her. "One hour. And if I catch you drooling over this season's knives, we're coming straight back."

Gamora didn't say much while they were out, letting Rocket bluster over overpriced crap, crap he could make into passable crap given a few hours' work, and passable crap he could do wonders with given enough time.

Well, for the first thirty minutes, her silence apparently a trick to lure him into a false sense of security.

"You should be careful. With Quill."

"You've been through this before," Rocket growled. "Starlord is a notorious philanderer, likely to break my stupid heart at the slightest provocation."

"No. He has shown...great care with you," Gamora replied, idly spinning a knife advertised to be made out some indestructible metal that Rocket was certain didn't stand up to the Cat-man's armor. "But you should take care your relationship does not make you weak."

"Weak? I am _not_ weak!"

"I never said you were. But it is easy to forget we are criminals in many places, that we have all collected enemies, and that the people you love-"

"I never said anything about _loving_ him!"

"We are family, Rocket. All of us. Whatever you feel for Peter, exactly, you love him. And he loves you." Rocket's heart skipped a beat and he nearly tripped into a rack of microprocessors.

"Come on, that's flarking ridiculous. Quill doesn't lo - I'm a teammate, a hot one, sure, but…" Rocket trailed off, because whatever he felt for Gamora, he wouldn't trust her with his accidental outbursts of honest emotion.

"But if you were in danger, Peter wouldn't hesitate to cross the length of the galaxy to find you."

And Rocket couldn't argue with that. "So what? He'd do the same for you. If you're trying to warn me not to get too attached, we're all in too deep already."

Gamora sighed and set the knife down. "I suppose I was being over-cautious."

"Naw, it's - you're looking out for me, right? Like family." Gamora nodded, and Rocket tried to squelch the strange feeling in his stomach. "Look, can I maybe...ask you something?"

"Despite appearances, I am trying to limit my involvement in yours and Peter's relationship as much as possible. My experience in this arena is limited, in any case."

"Yeah, but…" Rocket struggled to force the words out, because Quill wouldn't explain, and Groot was incessantly optimistic. "What the flark does he see in me?"

Gamora's glance was quiet, sad. _Pitying_. Rocket clenched his fists at his side.

"I must say, it took some time for me to understand his regard for you. But you have proven to be loyal, stalwart, and intelligent in ways I did not understand at first."

"...Thanks?"

"Despite your frequent boasting, you underestimate your worth. Whatever Peter sees in you, specifically, I am certain it is hardly unwarranted."

"Huh. That's…" Rocket scrambled about for a response that didn't make him sound pathetic. "Thanks. You're, uh, worth a lot, too."

Gamora gave him a sharp grin he guessed meant she took the response charitably, and dropped the subject, leaving Rocket to stew on his concerns on their way back to the ship. Before they boarded, though, Gamora tugged Rocket around, leaned down, and hugged him. He tried not to squirm, recognizing the sentiment behind it, and it was mercifully quick.

"I wish you the best of luck," she offered.

"Yeah." He headed toward their room, with the vague idea of cleaning up, even though he didn't have a clean jumpsuit to change into. He passed the bathroom, which echoed with Quill's singing, as Quill had apparently had the same idea. He paused for a minute to listen, because while the volume of Quill's music was a constant source of debate on the ship, Rocket sort of liked his stupid voice.

When Quill abruptly stopped singing, Rocket bolted. Quill'd laid out his clothes, and Rocket took a moment to admire them. They looked new, a dark red shirt, slim black pants that practically glistened, and a long coat covered in more hooks and buckles than were remotely fashionable. Next to _that_ was a wrapped package with Rocket's name on it. He eyed the package suspiciously. It was obviously intended to draw his notice, but the question of whether he was supposed to take it itched at him. Pissing off a planet of dogmatic self-important assholes was one thing, but pissing off Quill was another.

"Oh! Hey, Rocky, thought you'd be a little while longer. Nothing good planetside?"

"This whole planet's weapon stock is crap," Rocket retorted, turning toward Quill before realizing Quill was just wearing a towel, hair damp because planetside they could hook up the ship to local water lines without worrying about wastage. He spun back, resolutely staring at the package with his name on it rather than look directly at his three-quarters naked boyfriend. "Anyway, saw this neat package over here…"

"Oh, yeah. I...know you usually like spending money on guns and bombs and tech and stuff, but I saw this and thought…" When Quill didn't continue, Rocket risked a glance back. _Quill_ didn't seem to be able to meet Rocket's eyes, and his ears were reddening.

"Come on, you're the one who said we've got somewhere to be in an hour."

"I thought you'd look nice in those. You don't have to wear them; I just…"

Rocket's first instinct was to deny he needed charity, but he'd cut that one loose a while ago. His second was to protest that he wasn't a doll, didn't need Quill dressing him like an infant. His third took a step back and asked what Quill was getting out of it. Rocket glanced at Quill's clothes. Quill obviously wanted to look good, and if he couldn't do anything about his date's actual appearance he could at least trick people into thinking he was dating Rocket for his sense of style.

"Well, we'll see." Rocket grabbed the package and made for the door. "See you around, Baby Boo."

Rocket dropped the package in his room before making for the shower, who no one had stolen in the five minutes it'd been unoccupied. He let himself soak, a bit, in the shower; it was a luxury he rarely indulged in, but he had a flarking date and a fancy dryer no one would admit to having bought for him. The only downside was how it left his fur unacceptably puffy, requiring at least fifteen minutes of brushing to return to something that didn't make him look like a plush toy. But he had time, and was feeling positively sleek when he stepped out of the bathroom to assess the outfit Quill wanted to see him in.

Which was…

Flark, he didn't know what it was. There was a form-fitting, dark grey-green shirt made of some thick, flexible fabric, tight midnight blue pants with about a dozen pockets, and a black coat that appeared to have six built-in holsters and a series of straps that looked like they could easily hold a larger weapon on Rocket's back.

(Also a pair of red boxer-briefs that Rocket was resolutely not thinking about)

So, it was an outfit he looked d'ast good in. Quill's was probably the same, but his outfit looked impractical, a little silly. Rocket's looked like it was built for stealth, mobility, and carrying around a small armory without attracting attention.

It was a tactical outfit that happened to make Rocket look more like a professional sentient being than an escaped lab experiment. (He tried not to think too hard about how the snug fit highlighted certain of his assets) Like Quill had looked for something Rocket'd like.

Which was way too deep a thought for the ten minutes before he had a date, so Rocket gave his mouth a once-over, and, finding nothing that appeared immediately offensive, stepped outside.

And there was Quill, leaning against the far wall, in shiny pants that had presumably also chosen strategically, because his crotch was at the level of Rocket's eyes, and that meant the fabric stretched taut over the unmistakable bulge of Quill's cock against his leg was center stage. Rocket swallowed and looked up, finding Quill smirking.

"Looking good, Rocky."

"Where the hell'd you get all this?"

Quill shrugged. "Found them in a store on, uh, Serren, a couple weeks ago. I was gonna give 'em to you next time we went somewhere we needed to be on guard, but then, uh." His cheeks were faintly pink, ruining the debonair look he'd clearly been aiming for.

"They're not half bad. Uh. Thanks."

"No problem. You wanna head out?"

Rocket nodded. "Yeah. You got plans, or are we looking for the first place that doesn't look like they'll kick us out?"

"Come on, I'll show you." Quill turned, heading out, forcing Rocket to hurry after him once he realized Quill wasn't going to explain.

"I'm gonna ask again, Quill: do you have plans, here?"

"Yeah. You know how we couldn't get Chinese food on Terra?"

"You're not taking us back there, are you? Because I hate to tell you this, Quill, but your home planet's a hole. Even _without_ genocidal maniacs rampaging over it."

Quill laughed. "Rocket, buddy, anyone tell you it's rude to mock your date's home planet?"

"Come on, you've got to admit Terra's a hole."

Quill led the way out through the airlock, shaking his head. "Come on. Wakanda was pretty cool."

"Yeah, the most technologically advanced nation on Terra is _passable_. Your home planet's a hole. Look, it's okay. A lot of people's home planets are holes. _My_ home planet's a hole."

" _Anyway_ ," Quill continued, "I remember this place being pretty much the closest thing to Chinese food you can get in space."

"So let me get this straight. Your idea of a good time is making me eat trashy Terran food?"

Quill was quiet for the next minute of winding through the streets of Xandar. "We don't have to do it. I just thought you'd...we don't have to."

The change in tone made Rocket take note; Quill's stance was subtly slumped, not despondent, but...disappointed.

Flark.

This was a _date_. Rocket couldn't needle Quill the way he might if they were just hanging out. He was probably even trying to _impress_ Rocket.

"Nah, let's go for it. 'Pizza' was pretty good, so your taste can't be all bad."

"Course not. I'm out with you, aren't I?"

Rocket ducked his head, uncertain how to answer that. Insisting that Rocket was the best evidence _for_ Quill having terrible taste would just be a damper on this whole evening.

And then a hand landed on his head. He bristled for half a second before scent and warmth and the familiarity of the touch identified it as Quill. When Rocket risked a glance up, Quill was smiling at him. "You can just take the compliment, Rocky."

"Yeah, how about instead of being sentimental all over the street, you feed me like you promised?"

"Sure. Over here."

The restaurant wasn't, you know, nice, which was a relief. There was an actual host, though, who Quill gave his name, and led them to a table in one of the back corners, in sight of the entrance, emergency exit, _and_ kitchen. Quill paused before taking the seat away from the wall; he winked at Rocket, making it clear their location was no accident. Rocket settled in the seat, wall at his back a comforting line of defense. The interior was dim, but not so much Rocket couldn't see the other patrons, groups of mostly humanoid types chatting over bowls of meat and grain. The decor itself was muted, green and brown patterns painted across the wall. It was low-key, comfortable, nothing like either of their scenes.

At that realization, Rocket felt a little flare of discomfort. He didn't belong here; he was a criminal and a freak, and his seat was as much a way to hide from the other patrons as to keep an eye on them. "Beginning to rethink this place, Baby Boo."

Quill's eyes flicked across the room before settling on Rocket, brow furrowed. "What's up?"

"Come on, this isn't my scene. I don't belong here. We can find a flarking bar and get whatever-"

"No one's staring, Rocky; we're two sentients out for dinner, like anyone else here. You want to go, we go." There was an unspoken plea there: not for something imagined.

Rocket settled back down, and Quill must have seen the easing of his posture, because he sat back, as well. He was smiling at Rocket, forcing Rocket to resist the urge to duck behind something to avoid notice.

"What are we ordering here?" He grabbed the menu the host had dropped off for them, squinting at it because his d'ast translators didn't work well with his freaky eyes. "Bird in sauce'? 'Large mammal in sauce'? Yeah, I have no idea what to do with this."

"I could order for you?"

And Rocket considered. If they were out as a team, he'd object vigorously; in that sort of environment, he wouldn't put it past Quill to order something basically inedible. But different rules applied here. Quill was trying to impress him (was probably trying to charm him into bed, but this was not the place to be thinking about that).

"I suppose your taste isn't _terrible_ ," he concluded. "Knock yourself out."

Quill's grin wasn't quite blinding, but it told Rocket he'd made the right choice. Whatever Quill ordered Rocket, he got for himself, so at least Rocket wouldn't be suffering alone if it was terrible.

"So," Quill started, before flushing, looking away. "I mean..."

"What? Out with it, Quill."

"I don't know. I don't date, Rocket; the most I know is I should be 'getting to know you', but I already know you pretty d'ast well."

"I don't date either, so how am I supposed to know you're doing it wrong? Say whatever the flark you want to."

"Heh." Quill's smile returned, the easy, casual one. "You're sweet, you know that, Rocky?"

"Shut it; I'm not." Rocket was thankful his fur was usually dark enough to conceal a blush, because his ears and cheeks were hot. No one called him sweet, and it didn't feel like the sort of thing a thief and mercenary should be.

"What? Between me and Groot-"

"Groot's...special. And I'm trying to get into your pants."

"I don't know; seems a lot of effort to go through just to get in my pants."

"Maybe I just really like what's in 'em." Rocket could say the words, but couldn't meet Quill's eyes as he did so. It was so flarking embarrassing; he could talk about sex, but wasn't used to this whole bantering thing. _Flirting_.

He caught the edge of Quill's grin though, a self-satisfied smirk, and guessed he'd done good. He felt something brush against his leg though, and Rocket jumped before noticing Quill sitting slightly lower in his seat. His grin went a little sharper. Rocket rolled his eyes, shoved Quill's leg to the side of his chair, but left his hand on Quill's ankle, rubbing it absently as they talked.

"I don't know; there's gotta be something more. There's a limit how far someone'll go for dick, even if it's mine."

"Well...maybe I think you're nicer to me than I deserve, and think your taste in music has grown on me and shit." Rocket ducked his head a little rather than meet Quill's gaze. "Besides, you're discounting the value of your ass, here."

Rocket had rarely felt the need to describe one's eyes as 'lighting up', but it was an accurate description as Quill lunged up (pulling his leg away from Rocket), grinning wide. "Oh really? Maybe you should tell me more about this."

"In _public_?" Rocket's voice didn't squeak, he was adamant about that. "Look, I will _rhapsodize_ about your ass when we're on our own, Baby Boo. But not here."

"As long as you'll be _rhapsodizing_ ," Quill agreed, sliding back down, returning his foot to Rocket's side; he resumed his half-hearted massage, earning a wink from Quill.

Through some miracle, their food arrived before Rocket made a complete fool of himself, and it wasn't half bad...some meat coated in a bright, spicy sauce, with enough grains on the side to keep Rocket from burning his tongue off. Quill, because he was insane, ate the stupid little peppers that came with the dish, laughing off Rocket's perfectly legitimate concerns about his health.

And they had a drink or two apiece, which left Rocket a little tipsier because the assholes that altered him to make him better, faster, stronger, had not done the same to his liver. So maybe he started rambling a bit as Quill got the check (flark, whatever, he'd probably taken the money out of their group funds anyway, so Rocket decided not to feel defensive about it) and led him outside.

"Hope you're not planning of taking advantage, here, Quill. Dragging me back to your ship without me getting to fight anyone."

Quill's smile hadn't faded since dinner started, but it kept shifting in weird ways. He was watching Rocket as he did, gaze even, steady. "Actually got some plans, but it's a bit of a walk. You wanna walk yourself, or..."

Rocket hesitated, briefly, before throwing caution to the wind; he knew he could walk with Quill if he wanted, but wanted to stay close right now. He was having a good time, and that didn't leave any energy for anyone who might see Rocket draped over Quill's shoulders and think anything weird was going on.

"Brace yourself." And in clambering to the comfort of his boyfriend's shoulders (he'd told Quill at some point to just accept his spine could handle it as long as Quill's could, too), Rocket made another discovery. Quill's coat had a lot of hooks and loops, seeming to be distributed at random across the surface. They were, however, only distributed randomly until someone tried to climb up the person wearing the coat, where they proved to be decent hand-holds and, once Rocket reached Quill's shoulders, anchors. Rocket spent most of the walk scowling at the back of Quill's head, trying to get his own head around it. It was clear Quill had chosen his outfit mostly to look pretty, to draw attention to his...assets. But the coat, like Rocket's own outfit, had a dual purpose.

Evidence was continuing to amount to...something, and Rocket wasn't certain how he felt about it.

And then he saw where they were going and bolted back to the ground, glaring at Quill when he felt the absence of Rocket's weight and turned.

"Why are we at a d'ast Nova Corps outpost?"

Quill dropped down, arms resting on his knees, just far enough away that Rocket's jangling nerves didn't worsen. "Come on, Rocky, trust me?"

Like _that_ was a question worth asking. "Y - yeah, sure. You just surprised me. What are we doing here?"

"Called in a favor," Quill replied. "Seriously, you're going to love this."

Ten minutes later Rocket was in a Nova Corps shooting range with one of the most beautiful guns he'd ever seen cradled in his arms. There was a heavy blaster he was going to play with next, and something bigger than Rocket he wouldn't have to give his right arm to fire because the Nova Corps _said he could_.

Admittedly, there were two officers there to make sure Rocket didn't try to walk out with any of them, and they'd cleared the place out beforehand.

But Rocket had destroyed three targets already and he'd been laughing for five minutes straight. The officers were starting to look a little unnerved, which meant a small part of Rocket was wondering if he could use that to sneak the smaller gun out.

(There was a slightly smaller part that was arguing against doing that because if he stole from the Nova Corps and Quill ended up in trouble because of it, Quill might finally get fed up with him.)

Rocket lost track of time in there, but Quill eventually led him out of the building claiming their hour was up. He was giddy, laughing as he trailed after Quill.

"I've seen these things in action, but never up close. I can _buy_ most of the shit I need to make them! D'you hear me, Baby Boo?"

"I honestly thought you'd just want to blow shit up for an hour."

And there it was, Quill staring at Rocket like...well, not like he'd been sitting on the sidelines watching Rocket demolish an entire firing range.

"Well...yeah. But you _saw_ those guns, right?" 

Quill nodded; he was smiling, fond, at Rocket, and…

Shit. He'd talked the Nova Corps into letting them hang around and shoot up the place. Shared something that reminded him of...well, not home, Rocket was pretty sure the Quadrant was home, but Quill's heritage, certainly. He'd asked Quill to make a night of it, and Quill had more than delivered.

"Hey, Quill?"

"Yeah?"

"We're going back to the ship. Now."

"Wha-"

Rocket clambered to a perch on Quill's shoulders and leaned in close to his ear. "We are going somewhere we can be _alone_ , Baby Boo." Quill shivered, letting out an uneven breath.

"Yeah. Sounds like...a plan."

"Doesn't look like you're moving, Quill."

"R - right."

"Come on, you this articulate with all your dates?"

"That's it; you're _walking_ home."

"Walking?" Rocket dropped to the ground and darted in front of Quill. "I'm gonna beat _you_ back home." He sprinted off, laughing when Quill shouted and took chase.


	2. First Time

Quill beat Rocket back to the ship; it was a close thing, because the advantage Quill had in height he lost from wearing pants meant to accentuate his ass rather than urban pursuit.

They probably looked ridiculous, sprinting through the streets, but panting, exhilarated from the chase in the ship entry, Rocket didn't care. Quill was breathing hard, sweaty, looming over Rocket, the woody scent he wore overlaid with his own, heavier musk - leather and sweat and something like ozone. It would have been threatening, if Quill weren't breathless, looking at Rocket with a distant smile. If he hadn't let Quill close enough he could've hurt Rocket so worse than anyone else had.

"I'm just remembering there were certain promises made," Quill breathed, "about my ass."

"Yeah, I said in the privacy of our room, not the flarking common spaces," Rocket retorted. 

"In that case," Quill bent down and grabbed Rocket, hoisting Rocket over his shoulder, before freezing. The flash of panic was over before Rocket could react, but his heart was still racing, pounding in his ears as he tried to piece together a response.

"Flark, I'm sorry!" Quill dropped down, all but shoving Rocket off his shoulder; he landed a little hard, still trying to organize his thoughts.

So.

Quill'd done something stupid; he clearly knew that. Probably forgotten he _wasn't_ with someone he could pick up without warning. But he'd grabbed Rocket and nothing bad had happened. Just a flarking panic attack.

"Rocky? I'm so sorry, I forgot for a second - it's not an excuse, but - are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Baby Boo. Maybe...don't do that again, but we're cool."

"Rocky…" Quill's hand hovered between them, a sign of his caution. "I need to know if _you're_ okay."

"I'm _fine_ , Quill. Really." Rocket stepped up, grabbed Quill's hand, and pressed it on his head. "See? You grabbed me, and we are _not_ doing that again, but you didn't...hurt me. Flark, Quill, you're the only person who could get close enough to do that without getting your face cut off first."

Quill was scratching Rocket's head, which was a good step away from him freaking out about it. "I just mean, if you're still feeling jumpy-"

" _No_. I am horny, Baby Boo, so if you don't wanna do anything, you can tell me right now so I can go jerk off in my own room."

Quill's hand stopped moving; when Rocket looked up, Quill's face was neutral, distant, reminding Rocket of why he didn't take the initiative in shit like this. It had taken forever to bring Quill around to the idea of boning him, so talking about it like that must have freaked him out. Sighing, Rocket ducked away from Quill's hand.

"I'm going to my bunk; you can ignore what I said I'd be doing-"

"Hey, hey. Whoa. I was _super_ turned on before I triggered your no-grabbing thing, so if you're still good to go, we have a bed less than thirty feet away that could be put to good use."

Well.

Rocket grabbed the nearest hook of Quill's jacket and stalked forward, dragging Quill behind him as he bore straight for Quill's room. He heard an exchange between Quill and Drax that Rocket did not have the energy to care about until after he'd shut off Quill's higher brain functions. Once the door was closed (and locked) behind them, Rocket turned on Quill.

"Alright, coat off, Baby Boo."

There was something in Quill's grin Rocket couldn't place, but he tossed his jacket to the side with little preamble. And then the sight of Quill in the shirt he'd bought for this date, stretched tight across his chest, banished the remainder of Rocket's self-control.

He launched himself up at Quill. Rocket didn't weigh nearly enough that a lust-fueled jump could knock him over, but Quill went down with a grunt. Rocket landed on top of him, knees on his hips and hands braced against his shoulders. And before Rocket could apologize for the unprompted tackle, Quill surged up, licking at Rocket's mouth, tracing the sharp edges of Rocket's teeth with his tongue. Rocket grinned and nipped at Quill's tongue, eliciting a moan in response.

"Ah - Rocky, careful-"

"Don't worry, Baby Boo, not gonna hurt you." Rocket reach up and drew his claws gently across Quill's cheek, making Quill shiver. "Gonna make you feel good."

Quill gasped and reached down, grabbing Rocket's ass and pulling him flush up against him. His expression shifted into a smile, sly, self-satisfied, as Rocket's cock, already mostly hard, twitched against their stomachs. "Looks like I've got some catching up to do."

Rather than retorting, Rocket took Quill's mouth with his own, alternating nips and fierce kisses in a way that left Quill little time to offer further commentary. Cautiously, Rocket shifted his foot down Quill's hip to his crotch, unable to hold back a sharp-toothed grin when his foot brushed against Quill's stiff cock. He drew his foot up and down against it, not with any coordination, just to hear Quill's gasp, see his eyes drift shut at the sensation.

"Hey, come on, you wanna watch this, Baby Boo?"

"Y - yeah.” Quill's eyes opened, pupils wide, aroused, as his breaths came unevenly. "Rocky, I want-"

"Yeah?" When Quill didn't continue, Rocket pulled his foot away, shifted his arms to prop him up as he stared down at Quill.

"Gotta give me something to work with, here, Quill. Gotta tell me what you want me to do…"

"You can do any d'ast thing you want, Rocky, as long as you…" Quill gave a shuddering breath. "Make me feel good."

"You wanna screw me? Want me to suck you off?" Quill's breath hitched, and Rocket grinned. "Sounds like you heard something you liked, Baby Boo."

Quill's eyes darted downward. "I _definitely_ wanna see what you can do with your mouth on my dick."

"Well, I aim to please." And Quill started laughing at that; Rocket felt a surge of hurt in his chest. "What?"

"God, I love you, Rocky, but you have _never_ aimed to please. Come on, I wanna hear _you_ talking here."

Rocket's heart clenched, warmed. He'd gotten used to a pattern with other partners. Not talking much, certainly, but eager to please, submissive, when he had to say something. Quill, though, kept deflecting that sort of attempt, acting like he'd prefer to hear the shit Rocket was inclined to say in the heat of the moment.

Flark it.

"Fine, you want me to suck you off? I'm gonna blow you _and_ your flarking mind, Baby Boo."

Quill's breath hitched again. "Y - yeah, that. Wanna see you put your mouth where your...mouth…"

Rocket laughed as he slid down, pushing Quill's legs apart so he could settle comfortably between them, arms resting on his thighs. "The amount of ass you get, Quill, I'd expect you to be smoother in bed."

"I'm having a little trouble focusing here, Rocky, okay?"

"Aw...sorry, Baby Boo. I guess you're all pent up." Rocket ran one hand up Quill's thigh, pausing to squeeze when he passed over Quill's cock. Quill gasped; when Rocket glanced up, he found Quill watching him, intent, and he grinned. "Doing alright?"

" _Yes_ ," Quill gasped. "Can you just _please_ -"

"Cool your jets, Baby Boo." Rocket reached up with his other hand to unbutton Quill's pants while he gently stroked along the length of Quill's cock, still trapped against his leg. "This isn't about getting there, this is about the _ride_."

"Fair." Quill propped himself up to get a better look, smiling, almost shyly, when he caught Rocket's eyes. "Not used to being able to take my time."

"Well..." Rocket pulled down the zipper of Quill's pants slowly, "We can, so I'm gonna make this flarking amazing." He examined the scene for a moment before waving at Quill. "Pants. Lose 'em."

Quill hurried to comply, undressing with practiced speed, at which point Rocket tugged him back to their former position, crouched between Quill's legs. With his pants gone, Quill's cock was standing erect, though still contained in a pair of taut red briefs (Rocket did not know how to address that they were the same shade as his; that was some intimate shit he could deal with after he'd gotten Quill off). Rocket licked his lips before leaning in, resting his arms back on Quill's thighs, so his muzzle was inches from Quill's cock. "Looks good, Baby Boo."

"Oh my god, do you know how _hot_ you are, Rocky?"

"Yeah, give it a couple minutes." Rocket tugged Quill's briefs down a hair, pausing to admire his cock, because no one was going to tell him to pick up the flarking pace. A few shades darker than the skin around it, not thick enough to be a strain to hold, but...girthy, definitely, easily as long as Rocket's fists stacked on top of each other. Rocket put his hand flat against the light brush of dark hair surrounding Quill's cock and reached out to grip it, tugging down to expose the head.

And, well, Rocket was planning to take his time, but the sight of that tip, wide, glistening just a touch from the pre gathered there, was tempting, so he leaned in to lick across the head of Quill's cock.

"Ah!" Quill twitched, legs pressing briefly against Rocket's sides before he eased again.

"Y'alright, Quill?"

"Yeah." But Quill squirmed a little as he answered. "Sort of want these off, though."

"Can do." Rocket fumbled to pull Quill's briefs down and off, and then reached up to unbutton the nearest few buttons of his shirt, enough to expose most of his stomach. He dropped one hand across Quill's navel, the other back at the base of his cock, and looked up to grin at Quill. "Better?"

"Yeah. You wanna get to work down there?"

"Like I said, gonna take my time." Rocket slid his hand down, brushing his hands across Quill's balls, cupping one briefly in his hand as he moved his other hand in idle circles across Quill's stomach. "Pretty big here, Baby Boo." He squeezed the one testicle in his hand, savoring Quill's gasp before moving to the other. Neither was too large to hold, but he couldn't quite manage both in one hand, and wasn't about to stop his absent-minded massage of Quill's stomach. Well, until he braced himself there to lean down and begin licking at Quill's balls, short laps at the skin that did little more than make his presence known.

Quill sighed. "Feels good."

"That's the idea." Rocket paused, considering.

"Rocky, you gonna?"

"Wondering if I should…" Rocket looked up at Quill, flashing his teeth.

A full-body shiver wracked Quill. " _Oh_ , yeah. Go ahead."

Rocket grinned and sank back down, scraping the front of his teeth, no sharp edges, just the shape of them, along the skin of Quill's balls. Quill's legs tensed, but he apparently knew how to keep himself under control when someone had fangs that close to his junk, because nothing else moved. Rocket licked his lips, tip of his tongue flicking against Quill as he considered his angle. Tilting his head, he pressed his bared fangs against Quill's balls, opening and closing them a few times, drawing just the hint of the edge against Quill's skin.

"Aw, man, Rocky, that is...fantastic. Keep going, baby-" Rocket nipped at Quill, a gentle pinch at nothing vital, and Quill gasped. " _Yes_." Rocket licked at the spot he'd bitten, a gentle brush of his tongue at first, before he leant in for a more thorough laving, alternating slow licks with the slow drag of his teeth across Quill's skin, and the occasional nip that drew shocked gasps out of Quill.

"You're doing great, Rocky." A hand reached toward Rocket's head and he froze, until the hand just scratched at Rocket's ear, nothing restraining him, just the pressure of Quill's hand against Rocket's skin. Frission sparked down along Rocket's body, and he pushed up, tongue flicking up against the base of Quill's cock. "Just keep doing - ah - that." Rocket closed the hand pressed against Quill's stomach, trailing his claws against Quill's skin, sending a shiver through Quill's abdomen. "Or that. Flark, do whatever the hell you want, Rocky. You - you're amazing."

Rocket felt his ears heat, and he bent his head down to draw his tongue along the base of Quill's cock in lazy circles, in part to avoid meeting Quill's eyes. Direction, encouragement, he was used to, but Quill's casual, sincere praise was more than he could handle while keeping his cool.

But he kept at it, taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss against the bottom of Quill's cock, and pulling his head up, slowly, opening his mouth as he did to just brush the edges of his teeth along the shaft. He _definitely_ didn't want to risk an actual bite here, but Quill's gasp made it clear Rocket probably wasn’t pushing any boundaries. He resumed his gentle petting of Quill's stomach, and, as he reached the tip of Quill's cock, rested his other palm against Quill's balls. He slid a finger down underneath Quill's balls and along to his entrance.

"Tell me if I'm off the mark, Quill."

"You're _fine_ ," Quill breathed.

So, mindful of his teeth and claws, Rocket pressed the tip of his finger against Quill, and took the head of Quill's cock in his mouth. He allowed a moment for Quill to adjust to both before licking at Quill, a few slow licks before lapping at the tip in earnest. Quill groaned, hand tightening around Rocket's ear before he yanked it away.

"Sorry, Rocky."

Starting a slow circle of his finger against Quill's entrance to match his petting of Quill's stomach, Rocket pulled back. "S'all good, Baby Boo. I'm in good hands, right?"

" _You're_ in - Rocky," Quill sat up and, moving cautiously, pulled Rocket up from between his legs to give him a fierce kiss. When he pulled back, he was grinning fondly at Rocket. "Sorry; couldn't help myself there."

"Yeah, well," Rocket, who'd never had someone interrupt a blowjob for a kiss, mumbled, tucking his head under Quill's head, "that put us behind schedule, so you better accept those losses."

"You wanna keep sitting like this for a while?"

"Flark, no." Rocket pushed away from the impending hug and dropped back down between Quill's legs. "I promised you an orgasm; there'll be plenty of time for cuddling once you don't have the energy to think." He grabbed Quill's thigh with one hand, stretched his hand out to cup both of Quill's balls in the other, took a deep breath, opened his mouth as wide as he could, and dove down on Quill's cock. 

"Holy-" Quill gasped when Rocket's lips pressed against the skin of his stomach. The head of Quill's cock just broached Rocket's throat, a slight stretch that was worth it for Quill's awed voice. Rocket pulled back after just a moment, and began dragging his tongue eagerly around the length and head of it. Hand gripped firmly around Quill's balls, Rocket pulled back to focus on Quill's tip, and back down to circle the base, managing every now and again to reach that moment of full penetration that made Quill gasp.

Quill brushed his hand against Rocket's ear; he paused, bringing his head up to meet Quill's hand, and guided it to the top of his head.

"No pressure," Rocket warned, "but if you wanna scratch, go ahead."

"You're fantastic, Rocky," Quill murmured as he began scratching Rocket's head and ears. "Wanna keep you forever."

Rocket dipped his head down, stopping just short of taking all of Quill's cock in his mouth, absently licking as he enjoyed the touch, a hand on his head because he wanted it there, one that wouldn't shove him down or control him. Just comforting pressure along his scalp. 

Rocket bit down the slightest bit as he lowered his head, not enough even to scrape, but pressure enough to feel.

"Rocky!" Rocket pulled back, running his tongue carefully across and around the head of Quill's cock, as he reached up with the hand not on Quill's balls to grab Quill's cock and started pumping, even strokes that ran from the base of Quill's cock to just below the head. Quill groaned, but kept his scratching along Rocket's ears, met Rocket's gaze when he pulled up a moment.

"Rocky, baby, _please_ don't stop," he begged. "I'm almost there, and I n - need you."

Rocket dropped back down and growled, carrying the vibration into his mouth as he ran his tongue from base to tip of Quill's cock, and that was enough, Quill letting out a shocked gasp and tensing as he came. Rocket caught the first spurt in his mouth, pulling back and snapping his mouth closed around the substantial mouthful rather than try to choke down anything further. It meant, however, the subsequent three pulses of cum splattered across his muzzle. Rocket sat back, cross-legged between Quill's splayed legs, swallowed and licked his lips, the salty tang of Quill's cum already promising to linger. He looked up at Quill, grinning.

Quill had fallen back, propped up a little by his pillows, staring at Rocket, expression slack. "Okay, I was talking a big game, but if I literally blew your mind, I'm gonna need testimonials."

The comment seemed to break whatever moment had held Quill in place, because he sat back up and beckoned Rocket toward him. Rocket tensed, uncertain, and then Quill reached out and began scratching his head, and Rocket clambered up his boyfriend's recumbent form. He yelped when Quill grabbed his ass and dragged him up (sideways, toward Quill's head, but whatever).

"Watch the goods, Quill!"

Quill snickered and kissed the top of Rocket's head, ducked his head down to kiss his mouth, brief touches of their lips until Rocket remembered he had Quill's cum smeared on his face, and pulled back.

"Let me wipe off or something before you-"

Quill ducked in and licked at a streak along Rocket's cheek, grinning when Rocket sputtered. "What? _You_ swallowed it."

"Yeah, but..." Rocket shrugged, unable to vocalize it, but when Quill ducked back down, Rocket submitted to Quill's ministrations. He just seemed so d'ast pleased with himself, licking Rocket's fur clean. And it was nice, not worrying about how long he had before his fur was gross and unmanageable.

And maybe Quill's gentle grooming was soothing all on its own. Rocket almost felt himself drowsing, at least until Quill poked him in the side. He grumbled and shoved the hand away, opening one eye to glare at Quill.

"You've got terrible bedside manner, you know that?"

"I think that's for doctors."

"In any case, pretty sure when a guy gives you a blowjob, you're supposed to be nice to him."

"Aww, I can return the favor," Quill crooned, brushing his thumb across Rocket's cheek.

And Rocket didn't freeze, but the tension in his body must have been palpable, because Quill paused, twisting his head to meet Rocket's gaze head-on, even though it took a gentle, insistent hand on Rocket's chin to get Rocket to meet his eyes. He looked...worried, which made Rocket's fur bristle a little.

"Rocky? What's going on here?"

Rocket wanted to duck away; Quill's grip wasn't enough to keep him in place if he wanted to back off. But Quill _cared_ , and that meant maybe he wouldn't mind hearing Rocket whine about his stupid problems.

"Look, Quill, I know you wanna make me feel, I don't know, pretty, but I can handle myself. You don't have to…" He waved up and down to avoid having to actually come out and ask Quill not to pretend he wanted anything to do with Rocket's freakish body out of pity.

"What do you…" Rocket could see the comprehension come over Quill, eyes widening slightly as he took in Rocket, still fully clothed, and his eyes…

Softened. His whole expression went dumb, slack, sweet. He reached back out, scratching lightly at the side of Rocket's head. He leaned in, lifting Rocket's head and kissed him, a slow play of tongue against tongue when Rocket opened up, humming as he traced Rocket's fangs with his tongue. He was still smiling when he pulled back, though the smile was a little sharper, his pupils a little wider, darker. "Aw, Rocky, the things I wanna do to you - the things I want you to do to me - I don't even _know_ where to begin. Come on, you wanted to wax rhapsodic about my ass - here it is." He wiggled under Rocket, a motion that nearly shook Rocket off him back onto the bed; Rocket grabbed onto Quill's shirt to keep his balance, glaring at Quill's stupid smiley face when Quill stopped moving.

"What, you want me to talk about your ass?"

"Sure, if you want, but I was talking about fucking it. Pounding me as hard as those cybernetically-enhanced hips can manage."

Rocket choked, sputtering until Quill gave him a concerned look, which he waved off. "You're joking, Quill. I get wanting to keep me around for the amazing blowjobs, but I'm - you-" He bit back a sob, the stress of talking about this, debating whether Quill could stomach pleasuring _Rocket_ , rather than vice-versa, overwhelming his attempts to keep his cool.

"Jesus!" Quill tucked Rocket up against him, letting Rocket get tears and snot all over his new shirt, murmuring quiet phrases Rocket couldn't decipher through his tears. And flark, he'd gone to a lot of work to keep his first time with Quill involving him embarrassing himself with some sort of breakdown.

When Rocket's shaking subsided, Quill was stroking his neck in slow circles. "I got you, sweetie."

"N - no returns, right?"

"Course not." Quill reached his hand up to Rocket's ear and scratched gently. When Rocket lifted his muzzle up to get a better angle, Quill dove in for another kiss, a little fiercer, more insistent than the last. He was smiling when he pulled back. "And I want the whole package, Rocky. You don't think I'll like what I see? You're wrong. You think I wouldn't be down with letting you cum in _my_ face? Wouldn't love for you to pound me into the mattress? _Wrong_ , buddy."

Rocket swallowed, trying to form a response. Quill _sounded_ earnest, but that level of enthusiasm was so far outside his experience he couldn't process it. Plenty of people'd been happy to let Rocket go down on them, and a number had assured him he was a nice piece of ass, but none who'd given the appearance of even tolerating requests for switching it up. He'd given up asking, and no one'd ever wanted.

"You don't-"

"Come on, Rocky." Quill rested his chin on the top of Rocket's head. "When have I _ever_ lied to make you feel better?"

Rocket snorted, despite still feeling a little teary. "You're an asshole, Quill."

"But an _honest_ asshole. Look, I'm gonna be real here for a second." Rocket's breath caught, a moment of preparing himself for the worst. "That night you asked if you could stick around I was going to try and find out if you'd fuck me."

"What." Rocket pushed away and up, glaring down at Quill, who didn't _look_ like he was joking.

"I mean, you were pretty flarking hot, good in a fight, and I figured it'd be a good time before we went our separate ways."

"Yeah, but you wanted _me_ to-"

"I am not discounting your ass, here, Rocket, or, and I say this with the sincere thankfulness of a man who just was on the receiving end of a fantastic blowjob, your mouth. But you are _not_ shy about flaunting what you've got, and I have a _very active imagination_."

Something in Quill's speech connected with vague memories of the first few weeks before they'd gone from 'reluctant allies' to 'business partners', and Rocket found himself fighting down hysterical laughter, albeit not particularly effectively. He finally did lose his balance and fell, curled up, on the bed next to Quill, still laughing.

"Rocky?"

"I thought you were the laziest flarking asshole in space, spending so much time in bed, but you were just-"

Quill's face flushed. "Jesus, no! Not…" He turned his head away from Rocket. "Not _all_ the time. I was used to making my own hours."

"And…"

"And yes, I jerked off a couple times thinking about you bending me over the dash in the cockpit. But then you wanted to stay, and you need, like a rock solid partnership to mess around with your co-pilot, and then I didn't wanna _just_ mess around. And here we are."

"Huh." There were a lot of words there, so Rocket latched on the easiest ones to process. "There's about a thousand reasons it's a dumb idea to fuck in the cockpit-"

"Oh my god, it was just a stupid fantasy! I imagined you plowing me in my room plenty of times."

Rocket turned around to cuddle up against Quill's side, taking in his warmth and his musk that always had an edge of leather and ozone to it, and rolled that idea around for a minute. The basic absurdity of the premise that anyone had spent time _fantasizing_ about Rocket topping them was running up against the fact Quill couldn't keep a con on this long, and the way his voice hitched when he talked about it.

So…

"Yeah? Wanna share some of these ideas?" There was a twist of anticipation in Rocket's gut, not quite arousal, but some of the shame and panic were draining away. "Cause as amazing as I am, there are some things that are not in the cards."

Quill twisted around, and when he looked at Rocket, he smiled, gentility replaced by a wash of cautious interest, eyes drifting, a little. "I don't know, you look a little overdressed for sexy story time."

The implication hung between them for a moment, twisting in Rocket's chest as he considered what it'd be like to be exposed in front of Quill. Not trying to stay calm as scars and implants were visible in flashes, not trusting Quill to keep his hands and eyes away while they curled up in bed.

But letting Quill _see_ him.

Before he could lose his nerve, Rocket sat up, pulled the shirt up and over his head, and tossed it in a random direction. His shoulders hunched of their own accord, and he ducked his head down. The bed shifted as Quill moved; Rocket caught glimpses of Quill moving around him, cautious, quiet. It was quiet, Rocket all but shaking, before Quill let out a hiss.

"Really wanna give you a hug right now, sweetie."

Rocket went, willingly, tucking himself up against Quill's chest; he twitched when Quill's hand approached his back.

"Don't touch-"

"Wasn't gonna." Quill rested a hand on Rocket's neck, another on a relatively clear patch of skin on his hip, and just held him close. "So proud of you for letting me see, Rocky. For trusting me."

"And I'm still…"

Quill snorted, shaking the both of them. "Didn't anyone tell you scars make a dude look badass? Flarking sexy, dude."

Rocket laughed, shaking his head against Quill's chest. "Be serious for a second, Quill."

"I am." Quill's grip tightened for a fraction of a second, gone before Rocket could even consider panicking. "Those scars show me how das't _strong_ you are. And flark if thinking about that doesn't make me think about what you could do with that strength."

"Gotta one track mind, don't you, Baby Boo?"

"I...love it when you call me that, you know that?"

Rocket had not. "Wondered if you thought it was embarrassing."

Quill shrugged. "Thought you _were_ making fun of me, at first. But...then I thought you wanna make sure I know you like me. And it's sweet."

"I guess," Rocket mumbled into Quill's chest.

"And it's...hard to stay away from the topic of sex when I'm trying to convince you how much I want you to fuck me."

And maybe Rocket was sick of sitting here crying. Maybe he'd been putting a lid on this thing long enough. Whatever it was, a bolt of heat went through his chest straight to his groin, and he growled.

"Tell me what you want, Baby Boo, and I'll give it to you."

Quill shivered a little. "Like now?"

"If you're...up for it," Rocket replied, turning to press himself flush against Quill. He wasn't hard quite yet, but knew, when Quill stilled, that he could feel Rocket's cock pressed against his stomach.

"Oh, flark, yes," Quill breathed. He glanced down, and a frown flitted across his face. "First step is getting those pants off. Let me see the whole package, here."

"Yeah, I'll show you my package." Rocket scrambled back and spent a few awkward moments trying to shuck his pants, which he hurled to the side to join his shirt. And then he was standing on the bed, naked and exposed except for the boxer briefs clinging to his ass and cock, stiffening to tent the shorts under Quill's gaze. He didn't seem to be able to look away from Rocket's crotch, which was a hell of a boost to the ego. Rocket sauntered forward, relishing the miniscule advantage he had in height with Quill sitting on the bed, until he was just close enough to touch Quill. Rocket glanced down, where Quill's cock was hardening, twitching when Rocket looked back up to meet Quill's eyes.

"Like what you see?"

" _Yes_ ," Quill growled. "Come on, Rocky, you said you'd pound me into the mattress."

"Technically, I said I'd do whatever the flark you want, Baby Boo, and you're being remarkably silent on that front."

Quill's responding groan was almost pained. "Want you to ride me _hard_ , Rocky, make me cum again."

"Well." If Rocket hadn't basically been fully erect at that point, _that_ comment would have done it. Quill's gaze flicked back to Rocket's crotch; Rocket looked down, seeing a dark spot at the tip of the bulge in his shorts.

"Looks like you like the idea of that."

"You have no idea, Quill." Rocket stepped in and pulled Quill into a deep kiss, nipping at Quill's lip as he pulled back, smirking. "Now, you want me to go in dry, or you got some lube around here?"

Quill winced, but twisted around toward one of the end tables. Rocket was pretty sure he heard a mumbled, "asks if I've got _lube_." Quill came back up with a tube of something that when Rocket grabbed it, yeah, pretty much smelled like a neutral water-based lubricant.

"Have to admit I'm a little disappointed, Quill. Thought you'd have something, like, Altaean cedar-scented, or with hyper stimulating properties."

Quill scoffed. "I do pretty well on my own merits."

"Good to hear it, because I'm gonna need you to put those skills to use, here." Rocket tossed the tube back to Quill, who caught it automatically before giving Rocket a quizzical raise of an eyebrow. "You got two choices, Quill: either I scrape up your insides with these bad babies," Rocket brandished the claws on one hand, "or I get to watch you slide those pretty fingers inside yourself until you're good and slick for me."

Quill nodded shakily. "You make having me do all the work sound like a good deal."

"Aww, not gonna make you do all the work, Baby Boo." Rocket stepped in close, taking the tube back and popping open the cap. He tugged Quill's hand up and squeezed a mess of lube into his palm before dropping down between Quill's legs. "Come on, lean back. And get those fingers lubed up; I'm helping out here, but you still gotta participate."

Quill hummed and tugged a few pillows into a ramp to hold himself up as he leaned back, watching Rocket as Quill spread the lube to coat pretty much his whole hand. Rocket grinned and squeezed a dollop of lube out onto his hand, rubbing it between both hands to warm it a touch, and then ran one slick finger just underneath Quill's balls. Quill twitched, letting out a short gasp.

"Come on, talk to me, Baby Boo. Gotta know what you want, what you like. Haven't...really done this before."

"You have _clearly_ thought enough about it, Rocky, come on, looks like you wanted to see how far in you could get without scratching me, and I am flarking _down_ with that."

"Heh." And Rocket slid his finger down until he brushed the edge of Quill's entrance, earning a little keen when he moved his finger in tight circles around and across, leaving a thin sheen of lube as he moved. "That okay? Feel good?"

"Come on, you can press in a little bit." So Rocket did, spreading his hand out before pressing his fingertip into Quill; the flat edge of his claw pressed against the outer skin as Rocket put that little bit of pressure on Quill.

"Like that?"

"Y - yes."

"Hm." Rocket pulled his hand back. "Well, I've got a proposition here. You get yourself warmed up, and I'll let you see my dick."

Quill grinned, his wild, bright enthusiasm enhanced by his wide, dark eyes, aroused in spirit if not yet entirely in flesh. "You come up with some pretty good ideas, sometimes, Rocky."

"Well, go ahead, get to work."

Quill nodded once, jerkily, and reached down to his ass, trailing his middle finger along the same path Rocket had taken. He paused when he'd gotten as far as Rocket had, took a deep breath, and then pressed his finger in as far as the first joint.

"There you go, Baby Boo." Rocket stood, stepped back, pulled at the waistband of his underwear, pausing as his dick jerked free of the fabric, coming to rest against his stomach. He looked up at Quill, whose gaze was fixed on the sight. Rocket smirked and pulled his hands away, the very tip of his cock visible out of the top of his underwear. "You done?"

"Aw, come _on_ , Rocky!" Quill sounded pained, a little desperate, so Rocket stepped in quick, bent down to kiss his nose.

"Hey, just trying to get you a little worked up. You tell me if it's too much, alright?"

"Oh, you are doing _fine_ , Rocky. I'm _great_. Just..." Quill shifted, and when Rocket looked down, Quill was pressing his finger in down to the second joint, breathing evenly. "Been wanting to see that for a while. But yeah, sure, make me work for it." Rocket pulled back, and decided to reward Quill for his continued efforts, pulling down his shorts enough to expose the head of his cock.

He swiped a finger across the tip, smirking at Quill as he lapped up the precum; Quill's breath hitched as he shifted, twisting his hand to shift the angle of his finger. Quill licked his lips, bringing to mind the fact he'd expressed about equal enthusiasm for going down on Rocket, and that was going to be a treat someday.

"You wanna give yourself a minute there, Quill?"

"It'd be nice."

Rocket let his smile widen and tugged his underwear down the rest of the way, kicking them away before standing back up, totally exposed. And Quill...well, he didn't look disappointed. Rocket's cock was definitely a few inches shorter than Quill's, and slimmer (not by much, Rocket realized, seeing them both at once), but it probably looked impressive for the size of Rocket's body, bouncing gently against his stomach as he shifted. Dark pink, head flared from arousal, nothing to pull down or away to expose it.

"You like what you see?" And flark, Rocket had meant that to sound more...flirty, whatever, instead of that stupid, needy, insecure tone.

"Ohh, yeah." Quill pulled off his finger, pressed back down, letting out a little satisfied grunt. "Come over here."

Rocket stepped close, and then there was Quill's hand on his cock, warm, wide, covering most of the base as he gave Rocket's cock a firm squeeze. Rocket hissed at the unexpected touch, but reached out to grab Quill's wrist before he could pull back.

"Sorry, Rocky-"

"Shut up and - where the flark's the lube?"

Quill let go of Rocket's cock (and clearly that was a tactical mistake), handing him the lube. Rocket grinned and squeezed some out onto Quill's hand. "So why don't we try this again?"

And oh flark, it was cold. Rocket shivered and reached down, guiding Quill's hand as he stroked gently along Rocket's length, spreading out the lube and leaving the surface slick and glistening. Rocket moaned and put a hand on Quill's shoulder to keep his balance.

A quiet grunt from Quill made Rocket glance down, and oh _yeah_ , Quill had decided to move things along without tell Rocket, pressing the tips of two fingers into himself, shifting to work both deeper as he continued to stroke Rocket's cock.

"Should've told me you were this good at multi-tasking," Rocket murmured, relishing the slide of a hand other than his own on his cock.

"Hm, should've asked." Quill pressed himself down and gave a sigh, hand tightening on Rocket's cock. Rocket choked, a little, at the unexpected flare of pleasure. "Aw, you like that?"

" _Yes_ ," Rocket hissed. "But I was promised-"

"And I am..." Quill sighed, "getting there."

"No rush, Baby Boo." Quill gave a twist to his wrist, sending a shiver up Rocket's spine. "Though if you keep that up, this party is gonna be over before it starts." He snapped out a hand to grab Quill's wrist when his grip loosened. "I didn't say _let go_. Just...take it easy. Haven't gotten a lot of...attention here, okay?"

Quill's hand stayed where it was, but his grip loosened, his strokes slowed. The slow, moving pressure lulled Rocket into a daze, Quill occasionally letting out a quiet sigh. And then…

"Hey, you good to go, Rocky?"

The question snapped Rocky back to the moment, with Quill spread out beneath him, hands splayed out beside him, watching Rocket with a sly, almost shy, smile.

"Ohhhhh, yeah, Baby Boo. Where do you want me?"

Quill grinned and rolled over, flopping onto his stomach. He pulled his knees up slightly, wiggling his ass as he raised it up. "Said I wanted you to ride me, Rocky, so get up here."

Rocket snorted and shook his head. "I still can't believe you got laid as often as you did the way you talk in bed."

"I can be smooth!" Quill protested, turning his head over his shoulder, frowning. "But you _know_ me; if I tried to act cool, you'd make fun of me for like an hour straight."

And that sparked a memory when they _had_ caught Starlord trying to pick up a date in a bar, and Rocket had, in fact, made fun of Quill for three hours after that.

"...Yeah, alright. Like you better acting like you, anyway," Rocket confessed. He took a deep breath and rested a hand on one of Quill's ass cheeks. He gave it a squeeze, and Quill hissed as the edges of Rocket's claws brushed against his skin.

"Come _onnn_ , Rocket."

"Give me a minute, here." Rocket massaged Quill's ass for a second before stepping up. Quill had some sort of eye for this sort of thing, because Rocket didn't have to shift up or down before his cock ran up against Quill's ass. He rutted up against Quill for a minute, cock sliding between his cheeks, savoring the slight pressure on either side of him. "Yeah, that's good."

"Could be a lot better," Quill said, though his voice was a little breathless.

"I don't know, this is pretty good right here." Rocket gave another thrust, dragging a groan from Quill. "And _you_ sound like you're enjoying it."

"I'm not ragging on the basic concept here, but if you just wanted to do this, I could have dispensed with ten minutes of stretching myself out."

"Mmm, no." Rocket paused, leaning in against Quill, grinning at the back of his head. "Gonna like having that image tucked away for emergencies."

"Rocky," and Rocket wasn't sure what that tone was, quite. Pleading, weak, breathless. He sort of liked it.

"Quill," Rocket responded back.

"Would you just hurry up and fuck me, Rocket?"

"Aw, you just had to ask." And yeah, maybe Rocket had been procrastinating, a little on edge, worried his inexperience was going to leave Quill unimpressed. But even though he was half-sure this was going to be a forgettable disaster, he couldn't deny Quill this. It took a moment of shifting, and then the head of his cock was pressed right up against Quill, where he'd had his fingers a few minutes before. And then he pressed in without preamble. A shaky breath from Quill made him pause, but when no complaint was forthcoming, he let his weight carry him deeper. It was warm, and a gentle, variable pressure massaging his cock as he moved; Quill had done a good job loosening up, because Rocket moved easily, finding no problem pushing all the way in, until his crotch and stomach were pressed flush with Quill's ass.

Rocket took a moment to take it in, to assess Quill's state. He couldn't see Quill's face, but there wasn't any tension, any sign Quill was in pain. And Rocket was...familiar with how this could be uncomfortable, even painful, if your partner wasn't careful, and more than anything he didn't want this to be that for Quill.

"You doing okay?"

"Yes Rocket I am okay can you please-"

"I am _savoring_ here, Starlord, so just keep your pants on." Rocket snickered. "Or whatever." He pulled back a little, just enough to bump Quill's ass with a little force when he hilted himself in Quill again. "You gotta nice ass, Quill."

"Yeah, and you are _killing_ me here, Rocky."

"Oh my god, you are such a whiner." Rocket reached down and took Quill's cock in his hand. It was rigid in his grip, and when he stroked up to the head, almost dripping with precum. "Eager, though, aren't you?" He pulled back and thrusted, experimentally, as he pulled down from tip to base in the same movement. Quill groaned, and Rocket grinned to himself. "Come on, don't tell me I've rendered the great Starlord speechless again?"

"No, I'm good. You are doing _excellent_ , Rocky." There was a pause there, and Rocket was sure he was holding something back.

"Quill? What's up?"

"Nothing, it's fine."

"Nope. We are stopping this ride until I know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours-"

"Can you not. Call me Starlord. While we're doing this?" Quill's voice was rushed, as if he'd had to force the words out. "It's pretty much what I introduced myself to people as, and…"

"Oh, hey, yeah." Rocket gave a few more easy thrusts, none bringing him too far back out, because he was digging the warmth, the occasional grip along his length when Quill shifted or tensed. "Anything you want. Want this to be _good_ for you, Baby Boo."

"On that note…"

It took a second to get Quill's meaning, but when he did, Rocket nodded, more to himself than anything, because Quill couldn't see. "Well help me out, here, unless you just want me flailing around for your g-spot."

"It'd be easier on my back-"

"Nuh-uh. You wanted to be _ridden_ , Baby Boo. I'll just figure it out…" Rocket pushed down a little with his hand, and Quill obliged, and Rocket gave his cock a little squeeze as a reward. From that angle, it was a little easier to grind down as he thrust back in, not so much aiming as trying to get himself in the right general area. It took a minute of thrusting, remembering every now and again to give Quill's cock a squeeze or a few quick strokes, before Quill gasped, and tightened around Rocket, almost enough to end the ride right there.

" _There_ we go. You good, Quill?"

"Yes I am 'good', Rocky. Fantastic. Ecstatic. If you can just do that - ah!"

Rocket pulled back, having thrust in again while Quill was distracted. "Fantastic?"

"Yes, you are doing so good, Rocky, just keep going."

Rocket felt his ears flush, but obliged Quill, taking a few quick, short thrusts before pulling back, until just the head of his cock was still inside Quill, and thrust, a long, hard movement that ended with a pleased cry from Quill, and another clench that almost-

Rocket grit his teeth, pausing to try and get himself back down, away from the edge, and took a minute just stroking Quill. "You feeling good, there?"

"Yes, good. Fine. Just keep doing that, whatever the flark you want, Rocky." Certain he wasn't going to blow right there, Rocket started thrusting again, shorter movements, still aiming, and mostly hitting, that perfect spot that earned him Quill's sweet, pleased cries. And Quill seemed to have caught on that Rocket needed to know how things were going, because those cries were interspersed with an embarrassing litany of praises.

"Yes, Rocky. That's - great. Knew you'd do you best to make me feel good. Keep that up, sweetie, just, yeah, like that."

Rocket growled as he kept thrusting, moving a little faster as sparks of pleasure jolted through his groin. Each thrust in got a moan or a gasp from Quill, each stroke of his hand along Quill's cock set Quill jerking his hips against Rocket's grip. It was dragging Rocket closer to the edge, everything feeling tight and tense; a snarl rose from his chest as he tried to hold himself back.

"Rocky? You alright?"

"Fine, just…" Rocket grunted as he pushed back into Quill, squeezing at the base of Quill's cock. "Want you to feel good, Baby Boo."

"Really? This is - flarking awesome, Rock - Rocky...Rocky, I'm-" And that tone told Rocket all he needed to know; he plunged into Quill, a long thrust that made Quill yelp, and no more than a few rapid pumps of his hips as he stroked along Quill's cock with short, fast jerks at his base. Quill gasped, breath hitching, and then let out a low groan. He clenched around Rocket once, twice, and on the third pulse, Rocket, already just holding it together, came. The first tensing of his groin dragged a shout out of him, and then he lost himself for a bit, the throb of his cock spurting inside of Quill dull against the pleasure washing over him, warmth trailing after sparks along his nerves.

He dropped onto Quill's back, feeling loose and boneless, once he'd finished. The fact that his hand was damp filtered through his daze; he raised his hand to his mouth and lapped at it lazily, getting another taste of Quill's cum.

"You doing okay, sweetie?"

"Made you cum," Rocket said, feeling a little proud. First time at it, and he'd pushed Quill over the edge before him.

"Oh, yeaaahh," Quill drawled. He wiggled his ass again, sending Rocket's perch swaying. "Did a great job, there, Rocky."

"You have any doubt?" Rocket retorted.

"Course not." Quill wriggled. "Getting a little sore sitting like this, though."

"Tough luck, I need a pillow."

"Come on, pull out so I can lay down and you can drape yourself over me however you want."

"Fine," Rocket grumbled, pulling away from Quill, disappointed to pull out of that tight warmth, at least until Quill flopped back down so Rocket could claim his preferred spot for napping. It was novel, skin to fur along his entire height, and in the afterglow of their joint orgasms, something to relish in comfortable quiet between them.

A few minutes passed that way, before Quill began shifting under Rocket.

"Y'alright, Baby Boo?"

"I mean, I'm good, just a little, you know, sticky."

"Heh. Bet you are." Rocket twisted his head around to the door. "Think we can get to the shower without anyone noticing?"

"Rocket, there is no chance they don't all know we were having sex in here."

"Yeah, but there's a big difference between them knowing we're fucking and seeing us heading to the shower to wash each others' cum off each other."

"Huh," Quill said. "Didn't know you got a bashful side."

"Yeah, not all of us spend our time wandering around ships naked after banging their way through the galaxy."

Quill laughed and wrapped his arms around Rocket; he hummed and twisted, wishing he could stay here the rest of the night. But Rocket's crotch was sticky, patches of cum Quill'd missed drying on his face, and he wasn't getting to sleep like that.

Rocket took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's go. I am starting to feel gross."

"Nah, never."

"Shut up," Rocket grumbled, ducking his head to conceal any hint of a blush.

"Nope. You're my gorgeous, smoking hot boyfriend, and I'm not letting you forget it."

"Fine, then you can carry me to the bathroom, as befits someone of my - whoa!" Quill rolled out of bed, cradling Rocket against his chest as he stood. "What the flark, Quill?"

"You said you wanted to be carried - I figure 'cradled lovingly' is better than 'fireman carry', and I think we're a little soon for 'bridal carry'."

"Bridal - I'm not a _girl_ , Quill!"

And Quill was laughing, fumbling for a bathrobe he slipped on, leaving one arm out so he didn't let go of Rocket. He tugged that side of the robe over Rocket, creating a little cocoon between the fabric, his arm, and Quill's chest. Rocket inhaled, taking in the tang of sex, of cum, mixed with Quill's own scent. He could get used to this, which would be a dangerous thought, except that Rocket was too tired and sated to worry about that.

If they drew any notice from the others, Rocket, head tucked against Quill's chest, didn't notice. No one saw fit to comment, at least, for which Rocket was grateful. He didn't know who would be worse to have a conversation with about this. They were all probably the worst.

He scrambled down to take his own d'ast shower, because he wasn't an infant. He did let Quill massage shampoo into his fur, though, because there were places it was hard to reach when you were coming down off a high like Rocket's. And it was weird, how intimate showering together felt, when Rocket had literally been inside of Quill fifteen minutes ago. The way Quill kept looking at Rocket, half-smiling, Rocket was pretty sure Quill felt that way, too.

Quill was toweling off and Rocket standing in front of the dryer, when Quill groaned. "Aw, man!"

"What?" Rocket's heart sped up a tick, trying to plot out what he'd done wrong.

"We're gonna have to change the flarking sheets, and I am exhausted."

"We can just sleep in my old room; might be a few grenades scattered around, but nobody came all over the sheets."

"Are you blaming _me_ for the state of the sheets?"

Rocket shrugged. "It's not _my_ bodily fluids scattered around the place."

Quill huffed. "You're so flarking weird, Rocky. Come on, let's go to bed."

Clean, dry, and warm, Quill curled around Rocket, arms draped loosely over him, Rocket found consciousness slipping away soon after they retired. He felt a little guilty for forcing Quill into the bed that had been more than large enough for Rocket, but not meant to accommodate two, and not sized for adult humans. Not enough to have offered to change the sheets back in their room, but…

Rocket's thoughts paused, on the edge of sleep; it took a minute to wrap his head around it. His 'old' room. Yeah, he was definitely getting used to this thing with Quill.

It was going to suck when it fell apart, but that was for future Rocket to worry about.

It was a surprisingly comforting thought to fall asleep to.


	3. First Love

Rocket, you know, paid attention to things. Quill had definitely said he loved Rocket. Just, you know, people said stuff in the heat of the moment they didn't mean, so he was writing it off as passion-fueled ramblings.

It was nice, though, when he thought about it, imagining that Quill didn't just want him around, but had actual feelings about him. But he mostly managed to shove that to the back of his mind, forget about it, because sitting around imagining what it might be like to be loved (not like friends, not like family, not like Groot) wasn't getting the coolant system fixed.

The morning after their first time, though, marked a change in Quill's behavior. The casual displays of affection ramped up; kisses whenever they passed in the ship (and Rocket suspected Quill found excuses to wander by wherever Rocket was just for that), hands on the nearest part of Rocket's anatomy when they were in the same room (not the tail, naturally, but he'd tried to get up occasionally only to find one of his feet trapped in Quill's hand), and dragging Rocket into his lap whenever it was remotely feasible (like not in the cockpit, or with clients, but Rocket hadn't eaten dinner in his own chair for, like, weeks).

And he was, like, possessive. Not all creepy and weird, but if he could possibly wrangle it without sounding unprofessional, he'd introduce Rocket as his boyfriend. The Nova Corps administrative pool did, in fact, spread that around, making docking procedures at Nova-controlled planets flarking embarrassing.

And then there was the last time they were at a bar. Quill and Gamora were throwing knives at the wall because they were crazy. Drax and Mantis were dancing, because the joy he felt while doing so entertained her.

Rocket was drinking because alcohol was a lifelong friend and this place had something that tasted like pineapple. Groot was drinking something that smelled like peat and was making him loopy.

"Hey, good-looking."

"What, Gamora already whoop your ass-" Rocket bit off the rest of his jibe when he realized the person talking to him wasn't Quill, but a slick, blue-skinned humanoid with wicked-sharp teeth and a mane of black hair. They were leaning against the bar, smiling widely. Rocket smiled, reflexively, because they were probably the sort of person he'd have a fling with if he weren't taken. And the confidence, and starting right out telling Rocket he looked good, well. Made Rocket inclined to like them.

"Huh. Hey."

"You new, or just passing through?"

Rocket snorted. "Just drinking with my buddy, here."

"Groot!" Groot held up his glass and took a draught.

"You planning on staying the whole night or-"

"He is actually here with someone." A shift in the mass of people behind Rocket brought a presence, familiar, warm, behind him. "Hey, Rocky." And yep, there was a kiss to the top of Rocket's head. Quill reached out and grabbed Rocket's drink. "Huh - pineapple?"

"Apparently. Gamora beat your ass?"

"Hey, I nearly won. Who's your friend?"

"...Leaving, I think."

"Yeah, I bet you are." Quill sounded smug as he settled, arms folded across the back of Rocket's seat. He slipped into the seat next to Rocket once the stranger left; he was grinning unabashedly as he ordered something foul. "Hey, Rocky."

"You said that already." Quill hummed, a cheerful noise, as he downed his drink. "You didn't…" Rocket rolled the thought around in his head, not certain how he felt about the idea. "You don't need to keep hot strangers away from me, Quill."

"Were they hot? I didn't notice. Just finished up my game with Gamora and thought my best dude could use some company." Quill drew a finger along the edge of his glass and gave Rocket a bright smile. Innocent.

"Seriously, Quill, I can handle myself. Don't need you to make sure I'm not gonna pick up strange guys in bars."

"What?" Quill's brow furrowed, before smoothing out and he reached over, hand pausing before it could fall on Rocket's shoulder. "I wasn't - I didn't think you were hitting on anyone else. I just...you're _mine_ , Rocky." He flushed, ducking his head. " _God_ , that sounds way worse when I say it out loud."

"Heh, sort of does, Quill." Rocket fought to ignore the flush of warmth through his ears; Quill'd said that occasionally, moments when he let his guard down, and-

It was easier to believe than to think Quill loved him, and...more concrete. Rocket didn't really know what the flark love was, but he knew what belonging meant.

"But...you're not wrong," he added, because Quill needed to know he hadn't screwed up. He bit back a response about who else would want him, because that sort of talk upset Quill and Rocket was trying to do less of that. "The entire flarking Nova Corps knows that, don't know why you shouldn't tell anyone else." He turned and gave Quill a smirk. "Probably did that person a favor, keeping them from wasting their time trying to get into my pants."

"I wouldn't be, though, if I wanted to, would it?"

It was probably a Terran thing, how Quill could go from sweet to horny in like, a second; his eyes were half-lidded, and he was giving Rocket a slow smile - not hesitant, when he wasn't sure where Rocket stood, but-

Flark, promising.

"I don't know. You'd have to buy me a drink, first."

"Hey, get another round for my boyfriend here!"

The question of love might have been one Rocket couldn't figure out, but he knew where he stood when it came to belonging to Quill. Quill didn't want Rocket going anywhere, and while Rocket might not understand why anyone would love him, Quill had made it pretty clear what he got out of hanging with Rocket.

_Kept_ making it clear. Rocket knew he was a d'ast good pilot, and a better engineer, but it didn't mean he didn't feel a spark of warmth when Quill told him he'd done a good job. Rocket wasn't a good cook, but Quill was appreciative when Rocket brought him something from the galley in bed. 

And then there was the sex. Rocket knew he gave a mean blowjob, but Quill was equally enthusiastic about pretty much everything they did together (the sight of Quill looking up from between Rocket's legs, mouth streaked with cum, was an image to keep Rocket company when they were forced to spend time apart). Which, you know, Rocket was not complaining about. Regular sex, from a guy who was not shy about telling Rocket when he was enjoying himself? Who wanted Rocket around in the morning (and the afternoon, and evening)? It was practically the dream.

Even if Groot had other thoughts.

"I am Groot." Rocket had been fixing the cooling system when Groot had intruded (every ship had its own quirks and the Quadrant's was them being in constant danger of being roasted alive in the vacuum of space). So he had to pull his head out of a vent to point his spanner at Groot threateningly.

"Where do you even get ideas like that?"

"I am Groot."

"What the hell are you talking to the Spider-baby about my love life for? How are we getting Terran internet out here?"

"Groot."

"Well, _Shuri_ , that explains it." Rocket turned back to his work, at least until Groot rumbled meaningfully. Rocket turned back to the mostly-grown Groot, who was sitting at the edge of the room, watching Rocket intently. He sighed. "No, we're not."

"I am Groot."

"That's not news," Rocket retorted hotly, ears burning. "Anyway, we thought we were _alone_ up there."

"I am Groot."

"Okay, you are being deliberately obtuse, here. Quill and I have had plenty of sex with other people, and _I_ sure as hell didn't love any of _mine_. And unless he's been keeping a flarking _lot_ from me, he didn't marry any of his."

Rocket dove back into his work, trying to ignore the presence behind him.

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, well, that's _my_ stupid feelings. And it's a secret, so don't go wagging your branches about it!" He waved the spanner at Groot again for emphasis.

"I am Groot." Groot drooped down a little, shaking his head.

"Thanks, buddy."

Rocket had a few blessed moments of silence to work in before Groot spoke again. "I...am Groot."

Rocket dropped his head against the side of the bulkhead he was working on; it didn't scald him, suggesting the repairs were going well. "Everything's great, buddy. Seriously! Quill's good to me, alright?"

"Groot."

Oh, _god_. Rocket thumped his head against the wall several times, ignoring the heat that _would not leave his ears_. "It's cool. He's not dragging me anywhere I don't wanna be. We've got, you know, _boundaries_."

Groot dropped a hand on Rocket's shoulder. "I am Groot."

"Okay, that's _way_ too personal. But he's, you know, taking care of me."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah…" Rocket allowed, bracing his arm as he poked at a stripped screw that'd need replacing. "Don't want him to think I'm too much trouble. Besides, if he doesn't take care of himself, where's that gonna leave me when he gets himself killed?"

"I am Groot."

"Fine!" Rocket snapped, throwing his hands up. "I just want him to be safe and happy, okay?"

"I am Groot."

"That's different," Rocket muttered, swiping at his eyes, which had gone suspiciously wet. "I'm his copilot, and his engineer, and keep him supplied with orgasms. Keeping me alive and happy's just common sense."

It didn't mean Quill loved him.

But things were _fine_. Rocket had gotten along fine his whole life without love, and whatever he had with Quill was close enough. He didn't need love because he had a guy who willingly acted as a pillow or bed, as needed. He had a guy who was always ready to hold him, but never tight enough to make him panic. He had a guy who'd make sure he ate when he'd been flying for hours, make him get sleep when he needed it. He had a guy who got him clothes, practical shit that made him look d'ast good. He had a guy who got him dumb-ass presents whenever they spent any time apart (oh, who the flark was he kidding? Quill came up with some _amazing_ presents). He had a guy who _acted_ like Rocket was the best thing he'd ever seen every time they spent any appreciable time apart. He had a guy who'd pound his ass, beg for the same from Rocket, wring orgasms out of Rocket with that flarking silver tongue of his, fuck him slow and tender when they both needed it. Who on top of all of that never hesitated to let Rocket know he appreciated him.

It was more than enough for anyone.

So worrying about whether this was love was an irritating distraction from what was an otherwise awesome time.

Though Rocket didn't have to think about it too often. In bed, surrounded by warmth, by Quill's musky scent, that ever-present aroma of leather, Rocket didn't worry about it. Eating with the team (his family), getting dragged into Quill's lap, Rocket didn't worry about it. Piloting, either to keep them all from getting killed, or with Quill bantering by his side, Rocket didn't worry about it. He definitely didn't have time to worry about it when one or the other was trying to make the other cum.

Just, sometimes, working alone on the ship, the others out on errands or missions that didn't need six badass heroes to deal with, Rocket felt a little twinge of worry. He knew, despite his best efforts, he was sort of a mess. Quill could find a better pilot, a better engineer, someone better in bed. And how would Rocket compare, when that was all he had going for him?

Rocket was on a night watch when Quill found him brooding over the controls. As usual, he approached slowly, a heavy, comforting presence behind Rocket before arms looped loose around Rocket's shoulders and a chin rested on his head.

"Hey, Rocky. How's space?"

"It's space. Big, dark, full of rocks." Rocket twisted his head around, licking at Quill's chin when he managed to reach it. "You know; you've nearly died there a couple of times."

"Well, then, how are you?"

Rocket was just tired enough, just off-balance enough, that he shrugged. "Been better."

"Rocky?" Quill took the copilot's chair, resting a heavy hand on Rocket's knee. He leaned over, eyes wide, concerned. "What's up?"

"Gah, it's nothing, Quill. Just...being morbid is all."

Quill made a quiet, sympathetic noise. "This is why I hate late shift on my own. Wanna talk about it?"

"You're gonna think it's stupid."

"Well, yeah, morbid stuff usually is. But I still want to hear it."

"Look, it's not-" Rocket scratched at his arms, anxiety crawling in his skin. "Just wondering when you'll find someone better'n me."

"Better - okay, I am giving you five seconds to tell me not to pick you up and then I am putting you in my lap."

Rocket didn't wait, but scrambled into Quill's lap, curling up into the place he feared losing. Quill pulled Rocket up into his arms, held firmly against his chest, and Rocket almost sobbed, because even now, he could feel Quill's grip was loose enough he could get away if he bothered to try.

"Rocky, sweetie, did I say anything to make you think-"

" _No_! You're just-" Rocket swiped at his eyes. "I know I'm a good pilot, and a great engineer, a fantastic lay, and a pretty good cuddler, but...what's gonna happen when that's not enough?"

"Rocky, what are you talking about?"

"I _know_ you, Quill. Know there's a romantic in there-"

Quill chuckled and kissed Rocket's nose, cheek, lips. "Don't think I was keeping it a secret."

"Yeah, well-" Rocket pushed Quill's face away from him. "Know you wanna settle down with someone you love someday. So I get a little maudlin thinking about what happens when you find it."

Quill snickered. "Never took you for a romantic, Rocky."

"What the hell, Quill?" Rocket pushed out of Quill's grasp and backed up to glare at Quill from a perch on his knees, hands clenched at his side. Quill couldn't be _laughing_ at Rocket's dismay, but there he was, smiling, fond, at Rocket. "I try not to think about it, because you make me happy, but sometimes it makes me feel, you know, shitty, to remember you're gonna find someone you love and I'm gonna have to hope you still want me to stick around. So how about you don't make fun of me for it!"

Quill's eyes had widened through the whole speech, smile fading to something pensive, and now a full frown. His hands fluttered out, before pausing, drawing back, falling, clenched at his side. When he spoke, his voice was toneless, save for the occasional waver.

"I don't know what to do here, Rocky. I've tried so hard to make you understand how amazing you are. I want you to see how awesome I think you are, how - how _beautiful_ you are. My mom told me when you've got someone special, you need to spend every day making sure they know it, and I - I've tried that, Rocky! I don't know how to make you understand how much I care about you."

"I _know_ you _like_ me, Quill! But you're gonna find someone you _love_ one day, and I-"

"It's you."

"What?"

Quill reached out and put his hands on Rocket's shoulders. He pulled, gently, and Rocket went, leaning up against Quill as Quill folded his arms around him.

"You know when I found the person I love, Rocket?"

Rocket shook his head against Quill's shoulder, and Quill chuckled. "I'd just stolen this orb, and this bounty hunter tracked me down on Xandar. Got in a fight, and both of us ended up in jail. And even though he was a huge jerk, we ended up hanging out together for a while."

"Wait. What?" Rocket's heart was beating erratically, breath coming in uneven gasps.

"We got to be friends, but it freaked him out, I think, didn't know how to have friends. And some other shit went down, but at the end, he got it. What it means to be a friend. To be family. To care about other people."

Rocket blinked, eyes blurry as tears gathered, fell in slow tracks. He shook his head against Quill's chest, unable to piece together what he was hearing.

"So turns out he was a lot less annoying than I thought. He was a hell of a friend, and, well, he'd always been hot. And one thing led to another, and hey, we hooked up. And man, did he turn out to be an _amazing_ boyfriend."

"Quill…"

"No, just shut up for a minute here, Rocky. You need to hear this, because you apparently haven't been listening. I've heard love defined a lot of ways by a lot of different people, but I figure if there's someone I want to do my best to see happy, to keep safe, to comfort them when they're sad, who makes things better just by being around, who I'm willing to struggle with every day to keep them with me, that's love. And if that's the case...it's you, Rocky."

"It's..."

Quill brushed his hand along Rocket's cheek. "I love _you_ , you dumb trash panda."

Rocket didn't know if he was laughing or crying as he clutched onto Quill's shirt, but he had enough presence of mind to choke out, "Don't call me that, Quill."

"I don't know. I might need it to remind you that I love you; apparently, just saying it didn't make an impression."

"Just saying it?" Quill was smiling, not quite a smirk, especially because he was rubbing small circles along the top of Rocket's head. "You mean…"

"Not in the habit of blurting that out every time I have sex, Rocky." Quill brushed a finger along one of Rocket's ears, sending it twitching of its own accord.

"Yeah, well, maybe you could've said it again every once in a while," Rocket retorted, though he couldn't work up the energy to be seriously angry. "Lots of people say shit they don't mean during the, you know, heat of the moment."

"Probably could've, yeah," Quill agreed. He tugged Rocket around to sit on his lap, tugging Rocket back against his chest. It didn't feel much different, Quill's arms wrapped around his chest, than it had before he _knew_ Quill loved him. "You doing okay, now?"

"M'fine, Baby Boo," Rocket grumbled. "Was fine earlier, but-"

"Now you have the power of true love to sustain you in your dark hours!" Quill gave one of Rocket's ears a wet, sloppy kiss; oh god, there was saliva in his ear.

"You flarking - agh, get me a towel or something." Whatever Quill handed him did the job, at which point Rocket threw it back away from the controls before turning his head to glare at Quill. Quill was grinning at him. "What?"

"I lovvvve you," Quill crooned, leaning in close.

Rocket batted him away rather than risk Quill spitting in his ear again. "Yeah, that's clearly been established. Oh god, you're never going to shut up about it, are you?"

Quill pulled back a little, watching Rocket. He wasn't frowning, not exactly, but his face was...sort of neutral. "If it bothers you, Rocky, I won't-"

"No! I...like hearing it." Rocket twisted around to duck under Quill's chin, because it was a reliable way to avoid looking at people when he had to say something embarrassing. "Just gotta, you know, keep up appearances. Don't let people know I've gone soft."

Quill was hugging him again, pulling Rocket that much closer against his chest. "You haven't gone soft, Rocky. You're still the gun-toting, maniacal bounty hunter I fell in love with." Rocket hummed rather than answer, deciding that since their other pilot was here, he didn't have to keep watch and could just relish in the solid form he was leaning against, warm, comfortable, and loved. It took only a minute before Quill jostled him.

"Hey, you awake?"

" _Yes_. Was enjoying the quiet before someone decided to knock me around."

"Come on. How about we go to bed?"

"What about the-"

"We're headed to a peaceful system in the middle of the galaxy for a glorified package delivery. The proximity alarms are more than enough to keep up out of trouble. The only reason to be sitting up here is because you wanna brood."

As it _was_ in fact the reason Rocket had been taking watch, he shrugged. "Don't got anything better to do."

"Alright, come on." Quill moved to stand, pausing, though, when Rocket dug his claws into Quill's shirt. "Rocky?"

"Just flarking carry me, okay? Don't wanna move."

There was a huff from Quill, but he didn't comment, just shifting to support Rocket's weight so when he stood, Rocket didn't tumble to the ground. He spared some thought for the futile hope no one else was up to see this (not that they hadn't seen Quill manhandle, drag, _and_ carry him before, just that it was nice to maintain some fragment of dignity, even around people who'd seen him at his lowest).

Turned out to not be so futile, when Quill eventually set Rocket down on their bed without any comment. 

"Come on, let's get undressed."

"Just wanted to get my pants off, eh, Quill?" Quill paused, own pants half-off, as he looked over Rocket. Rocket felt a shiver along his skin at the careful attention.

"If you want to," he allowed, grinning briefly.

"Yeah, because I lost my sex drive sometime in the last 48 hours," Rocket retorted. "Get over here." Quill stumbled over his pants to clamber onto the bed with Rocket.

"Alright, tell me what you want, Rocky."

Rocket took a shaky breath. It'd been months, but it was still a thrill hearing someone ask what Rocket wanted in bed. He looked at Quill, crouched over him, and it was such a nice sight he decided he wanted more.

"Want you to suck me off, Baby Boo. Make me _scream_."

Quill grinned, sharp, delighted. And flark, that always did it for Rocket, seeing how happy Quill was to do _anything_ with him.

"Want your pants on or off, Rocky?"

"Everything off," Rocket demanded, and Quill's grin, if anything, grew wider.

"Whatever you want, Rocky." Quill pulled his shirt off in one smooth motion, allowed Rocket to watch as he fumbled with his briefs, chest and stomach flexing with his struggle. Rocket felt a hitch in his breath, the flush of excitement, of arousal, seeing Quill naked, or mostly so, smooth, muscular, twice Rocket's size but so flarking gentle, _loving_ (and that was a new part of the thrill, the knowledge that this amazing man loved him). Rocket fell back, grinning in response as Quill, fully naked, crouched back over him.

Quill reached down, and Rocket tilted his head up, raising his arms in silent permission, and Quill grabbed at Rocket's shirt, pulling it away in an awkward few moments when it got tangled in Rocket's arms. Rocket didn't allow this much, but when he felt like it, secure and comfortable enough not to panic in the few moments he was bound and vulnerable by his own clothing, he liked letting Quill undress him, the wonder in his eyes when he exposed Rocket underneath him.

Quill saw the scars, saw the implants and weird, mutant body, and loved it. _Loved it_. Flark, Rocket didn't know how that'd happened, but Quill hadn't lied to Rocket before, so he had to love him.

And then Quill tugged off Rocket's boxers and they were naked, Quill on hands and knees over Rocket, grinning at the sight of him.

"And what are you looking at? I remember making some very specific demands, which did not involve being ogled like this."

Quill hummed thoughtfully. "Gotta get in the mood, Rocky. Gotta take a good look at you. I'm not gonna see much when I've got your cock in my mouth, you know."

"Alright, but you're on thin ice, Quill."

Quill laughed and ducked his head down, pausing a few inches from Rocket's stomach and just breathing out, the warm huff of breath sending a shiver along Rocket's stomach. "Don't think I've been there in a while. Cause you _liiiike_ me, Rocky."

"And you li - love me, and I'm pretty sure part of that involves not tormenting me."

"Well, when you put it that way," Quill lunged up and kissed Rocket, a quick, hard press of the lips before he delved back down, breathing heavily against Rocket's stomach, drawing lower, a line of hot breath that drove blood to Rocket's groin, his cock already starting to swell when Quill reached it. Quill dove in, taking Rocket in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around Rocket's cock while he still could, leisurely movements that left only the sensation of _warm_ and _wet_. Rocket let his head fall back, knowing he had time to watch Quill work on him and could just take a moment enjoying how the drag of Quill's tongue was making his cock harden, swelling to fill his boyfriend's mouth.

"Got a nice touch, there, Baby Boo." Quill hummed around Rocket's cock, drawing him a little further to attention. Quill pulled back, releasing Rocket, and he glanced down to see Quill looking up at him, lips a little slick, pupils wide, grinning.

"You want it quick or slow, sweetie?"

Flark, one of the difficult questions. But looking down on Quill, Rocket wanted to just hold the human to himself. "Quick as you can, Baby Boo." Rocket gave him a sharp-toothed grin. "Sooner you're done, sooner you can _cuddle_."

And maybe Rocket shouldn't have offered that challenge, because Quill ducked his head back down, easily swallowing Rocket's cock to the base. He began an insistent suction, drawing a sort of spiral along the outside of Rocket's cock as he did so, and Rocket, rather than reaching down to grab (Quill didn't seem to mind, but it made Rocket feel skeezy holding Quill's head down), clutched at the sheets on either side.

Quill reached one hand up to cup Rocket's balls - flark, no, _massage_ them, with slow, gentle motions as he pressed Rocket's cock against the top of his mouth with the firm pressure of his tongue. He moved slower as his tongue approached the head of Rocket's cock, an excruciatingly slow motion that had Rocket keening as Quill paused, tongue just below the head of Rocket's cock.

"Come on, Baby Boo, need to use that tongue, get me off like you _know_ I like..."

And the hum Quill made in his throat, that vibrated the length of Rocket's cock was a hell of a nice touch. Rocket bucked up, unrestrained by the hand Quill usually put on Rocket's waist when he did this.

"Sorry, Quill, lost myself for a second-"

"Hm, 'ts fine, Rocky." Quill had pulled back, where he gave the head of Rocket's cock alternating kisses and long, circular strokes with his tongue. "Not big enough to choke me even if you tried." He plunged onto Rocket's cock, taking him right to the base, licking, flarking _slurping_ enthusiastically as he bobbed up and down, sucking when he got the whole thing in, lapping at the very tip when he pulled up. A sprint, like Rocket had asked for. Quill released Rocket's balls and reached up over his head, splaying his hand across Rocket's stomach and gave it a light scratch before easing into the slow, intimate touch that could make Rocket sprawl, boneless, in Quill's lap, but more often than not also filled his groin with insistent heat. With his cock in Quill's mouth, Quill's tongue moving with focused purpose, Rocket felt a jolt and then he was coming with a shout. 

He hunched over as his groin tightened with each pulse of his cock, hands not quite touching Quill's head, wanting to touch, not wanting to restrain Quill. So he just watched as his boyfriend kept his mouth on Rocket, swallowing until Rocket was spent. Rocket was jealous, a bit, that Quill could manage that without difficulty, while Rocket could get like one mouthful before his choices were letting Quill cum all over his face or choke (he _didn't_ mind, just would like a chance to give Quill that d'ast smug smile after drinking him all down).

But Rocket had better things to do right now, grabbing at Quill's shoulders and pulling him up. "Come here, Baby Boo."

"Hm?" But Quill went willingly, that lazy, self-satisfied grin on his face when Rocket tugged him into a kiss, fierce, insistent. He was arched over Rocket, framing Rocket's form without putting any weight on him, so Rocket could relish the warmth, the presence of his guy without risking panic. They kissed like that for a while, messing around, lazy, like they had early on before they'd had sex. It was nice, though Rocket pulled back after a few minutes to glance at Quill's cock, which was soft, hanging down where Rocket could grab it with his feet if he wanted.

Except…

"What, you didn't trust me to get you off?"

Quill flushed, a little. "No, you are _great_ at that. It's just, you know, that was pretty flarking hot, and I like..." he trailed off, cheeks darkening further. "Like trying to cum at the same time. Like we're really in this together."

"Heh, s'alright, Quill. You like it intimate. Come on." He pulled Quill back down, licking at his cheek, nipping at his ear, neck, until Quill was laughing, kissing Rocket's cheek when Rocket wasn't otherwise occupied. It was warm, comfortable, and Rocket sort of slowed down, drowsing, after a bit. Quill lowered himself to Rocket's side once he realized, tucking Rocket up against his chest, hands cupped against Rocket's ass to hold him in place.

"Love you, Rocky."

"Heh, love you too, Baby Boo."

"Really?" The tone of Quill's voice was odd, requiring Rocket to look up to interpret it. Quill looked...elated, more awake than he'd been a minute ago, eyes bright, smile wide, involuntary. But his voice, while happy, was...uncertain.

"Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Rocket mumbled, tucking his head back under Quill's chin. "Thought we were past this sort of shit."

" _You_ were the one who said-"

"Not the flarking heat of the moment, Quill. Just enjoying a good old-fashioned post-coital cuddle with the man I love."

"You probably want to get some sleep."

"D'ast right I do, so you can stop your chattering and talk to me in the morning."

"Good night, Rocky."

"Night, Baby Boo."


	4. First Year

Rocket tossed his wrench aside, glowering at the man who was watching him from across the room. Quill'd been standing there for like half an hour, and it was putting him off his game. 

"Do you want something, or are you just here to gawk?"

Quill shrugged, grinning wide. "Could be both."

"Can't be that important; you've been there forever."

"Maybe I got distracted."

Rocket sighed, shaking his head, but couldn't help the smile on his face. Quill was a dorky, cheesy mess, but he was _Rocket's_.

"Yeah, well it's distracting me, so unless you _like_ flying a ship that can't turn left, how about you leave me alone until after ordinary business hours?"

"Ordinary business hours? Never thought you'd sound so responsible, Rocky."

"Look, I'm serious here. Our continued survival is dependent on you owning functional spaceship, which I cannot fix unless you pick up a welder and help or stop staring at my ass."

"Sure. We're swinging through Terra next week. Wanna head out while we're there?"

"Long as nobody's staring at us the whole time. I can do the whole 'savior of half the universe' gig, but not when I'm trying to enjoy myself."

"Don't worry. Pete - Spider-dude - got Stark on the case."

Rocket couldn't help the small snarl. He still couldn't get over the feeling Stark was considering slicing him up for fun whenever the man looked at him, and being in his debt wasn't going to help that.

"Well, if the great Tony Stark's gonna get us some privacy, sure."

"Good. Great." Quill was bouncing on his feet, hands in his pockets, and turned to leave. "See you then."

' _See you then_ ', like they didn't live on the same tiny-ass ship, didn't share a room _and_ a bed.

Something was up.

And Quill had given Rocket a lead.

"I am Groot."

"What do you mean, school? _I_ didn't go to school, and here I am, second-in-command on the best flarking ship in the galaxy."

"I am Groot."

"Ugh, I don't know." Rocket fell on his back, spread out. "Quill's acting weird. I mean, weirder than your base-level Quill. Nervous."

"Groot."

It was a point; Rocket probably _was_ the person in the universe who knew Quill best at this point, all three people with any claim on being a parent to him dead. But there were still moments when they misunderstood each other, because Quill had a childhood on Terra before he'd joined the rest of the universe in space.

"I am Groot."

"Ha! Hey, Spider-dude!"

"You can call me Peter, uh, Rocket, sir." It'd been, what, a year since the fiasco, but Spider-dude still sounded like a kid.

"Sir? It's _Rocket_. And I'm not gonna call you 'Peter' - gonna get confusing, asking which Peter I'm talking about - the consenting adult I'm screwing or the twelve-year-old I am not."

"I...can we maybe not talk about that? I think it might be a little inappropriate."

"Sure. Didn't call you to talk about my sex life - would highly advise you get one at some point, though."

"Oh my _god_! Mr. - Rocket - I really don't have time to talk about this. Groot said you had something to ask me?"

And yeah, that was a thing. Rocket rolled forward and back on his feet, working the words over in his head. He hated this, letting people see his weakness, had tried to distract Spider-dude to avoid this exact moment.

But Rocket grit his teeth. This was him and Quill, and that was worth a little discomfort. "Look, Quill's been acting weird, and I wanted to figure out if it was, like, a human thing, or a Quill thing."

"Like, weird how? I mean, I'm not an expert in psychology or anything-"

"Come on, I'm not looking for a, like, nuanced analysis, here. _Weird_. Nervous. Like a guy about to get screwed for the first time."

"Can you _please_ stop talking about sex?"

Rocket couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, alright. Like a kid asking out his sweetheart. Which, you know, this is _not_ what's going down. We've been...whatever, forever."

"I am Groot."

"Fine, a year-"

"Oh. Uh. I don't know how you do things in space, Rocket, but we do this thing called-"

"It's our flarking anniversary."

"Oh! So you _do_ do that!"

"Groot."

Spider-dude laughed, explosively.

"What, you're okay, hearing _him_ talking about sex?"

"Come on, Mr. - Rocket - it's like hearing about my _aunt_ talking about sex!"

"I'm not your aunt, Spider-dude!"

"Then I don't know, like Mr. Stark talking about sex."

"What?" Rocket turned and slapped Groot's shoulder. "Tell him I'm nothing like Stark!"

"Hey, look, Rocket, do you need anything else, because I've got chemistry homework and-"

"Yeah, go on. Thanks, spider-dude."

"Anytime."

Groot shut down the computer and turned to Rocket.

"Chemistry homework? Was he blowing me off, there, Groot?"

"I am Groot."

"Kid told me he designed those d'ast web-thingies himself! Doesn't need flarking chemistry homework."

Groot looked away, rumbling uncertainly. "I...am Groot."

Rocket couldn't help the snort in response. "Well, better the Wakandan kid than _Stark_. Kid needs guidance that isn't from the mad scientist type."

"Groot."

Rocket felt a flash of irritation. "What gave you the idea I wanna talk about this?"

"I am Groot."

Rocket groaned, staring at his feet. "Yeah, well." He hadn't wanted to talk to _Spider-dude_ about it, but he'd run out of ideas. And for all he'd cared about Groot, they'd never been, you know, _sharers_. New Groot, though, had grown up surrounded by _family_ , and it had rubbed off, apparently, making him think Rocket's happiness was his business.

He fell back, a grin stealing over his lips. "It's our anniversary."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, one _year_. I never...had anyone, Groot. Not a year, not a month, not a _week_. People who wanted to fuck me, no one who stayed."

"I am Groot."

Rocket shivered, rolling over to tuck his arms around himself. "A _year_ , Groot. Keep waiting for myself to screw it up, and I keep...not doing that?"

Groot reached a hand out, a delicate touch against Rocket's shoulder. He didn't say anything, probably didn't have anything he _could_ say. Neither of them knew enough about this to talk about, and he doubted anything Groot could say would make him feel better. Because he wasn't really…

Every day he didn't screw things up, Rocket felt a little more like he might be able to make this work. And a year of that made a part of him think that…

"I gotta get him a flarking present, don't I?"

Rocket hadn't 'done' presents; hadn't celebrated a birthday or much of anything. But he knew they were supposed to be something special, which is where he got tripped up. They got by well enough there wasn't anything Quill needed, and little enough he wanted but couldn't get himself. He'd heard shit about handmade gifts before, and was pretty sure he could put together some neat tech, but he did _that_ every day.

A week wasn't enough to figure this out, especially since Quill, Mr. 'let's go out on a date during this very convenient trip to Terra', had clearly been planning for longer. Going to anyone else for ideas felt like cheating, somehow. And that left Rocket alone with his dumb ideas. Because it wasn't like he had anything he could give Quill that Quill couldn't have any time he wanted, anyway. The only things he could imagine Quill wanting were things that were impossible.

Or…

Not so impossible.

Not if Rocket was willing to ask for help.

Rocket squirmed out of Quill's embrace the morning they were scheduled to land on Terra. He had to be ready to head out the moment they landed, because even with expedited shipping, the timing was tight, and he didn't want to be late.

It did mean, though, when Rocket returned to their room to the sight of sleep-rumpled Quill looking at him through a gap in his sheets, he regretted not sleeping in a little.

Well, not sleeping, exactly.

"Wh'th'flrk tim'sit?"

"I ever tell you I thought you were the laziest space pirate I ever met, when we first started running together? Beginning to think I was right."

"Make me do all the work, make fun of my for being tired after...you're an ass sometimes, you know that?"

"But you love me, Baby Boo."

"Well, duh. What're you doing up?"

"Got a date tonight. Got some errands to get done before that. You wanna help me land, or you want your beauty sleep?"

Quill grumbled but rolled out of bed, digging around for a shirt while Rocket got dressed. He tugged on loose sleep pants rather than dressing fully, trailing after Rocket, still rubbing at his eyes.

"You can go back to bed, Quill. I can land this d'ast thing myself."

"Course you can. But I can't sleep without my furry little pillow."

Rocket had seen Quill fall asleep in nearly every situation imaginable, but while his _head_ knew Quill was perfectly capable of sleeping without Rocket there, his stupid heart fluttered at the claim.

Well, either that, or the admission, casual, as if he hadn't given it a second thought, that Quill knew Rocket wouldn't scratch the paint on his stupid ship.

So he took the ship down with Quill's hand rubbing, gently, at the back of his neck, a buzz all along his nerves, nerves and excitement and - and flark, something else, a lightness he couldn't name. Certainty, he thought. Clarity.

Terran space traffic control set them down outside, well, it was not Wakanda, so a shithole, but sort of a pretty one. Stark had a couple of cars waiting for them, each with a pair of bodyguards, people in nice suits and dark glasses. Stark was there; he waved at Rocket and Gamora as they disembarked.

"Gamora. Rocket. Where's the boyfriend?"

"Where's the wife? Come on, I didn't come to Terra to make small talk."

"Picked a hell of a time to show up, though, Ranger Rick."

Rocket decided that pissing off the guy who was giving him a ride (and a way to avoid too many gawkers while trying to go about his business) wasn't worth demanding what the hell was up with that name. Besides, there was something more important to deal with.

"What's wrong?"

"It's a national holiday, Rick. Well, international. You know they sell little stuffed Rocket Racoons? And like a, Barbie doll, or something, of Quill. Anyway, whole planet's basically closed; I had to throw around a lot of money to get your boy his dinner reservation, and even then I had to play the 'intergalactic heroes' card."

"Wait, uh - I gotta package to pick up. And…" Rocket rolled the idea around a little. "And another stop or two I was planning to make."

"Well, lucky you got a man who can make things happen with you." Stark waved at one of the drivers, or guards, or whatever. "Come on."

Rocket shot a pleading look at Gamora; she nodded, getting the message, as she slipped into the car after Stark. She was, Rocket realized as he clambered in after her, in the unenviable position of being the one sitting next to Stark.

Stark, though, behaved himself, mostly. He raised his eyebrow when he saw the Wakandan return address on the package, and smirked when Rocket asked about...toy stores.

"We are not getting doing this at Toys'R'Us - I mean, for several reasons, most for which I am just realizing you have no context. Look, we are...well, not friends, but I think there's a special sort of relationship that comes from helping someone save the universe. I mean, you know that - you got a boyfriend out of the deal."

"Do you have a point, here? Because I'm taken, Gamora isn't interested - wait, are you?"

"Not even remotely."

"My _point_ is, please don't make this weird. I have more money than I know what to do with, and am _happy_ to share it with my world-saving buddies. So I'm gonna make some calls, and we can get your boy whatever the hell it is you're trying to get him. Although," and Stark glanced meaningfully at the package Rocket had picked up, "I am certain I'm not going to match whatever you got from Wakanda. Please tell me you got them to design you something better than a Zune."

"It's a surprise."

"Come on, we're world-saving bros!"

Rocket sighed.

They got back to the ship without Rocket murdering Stark, which was frankly an accomplishment. On the plus side, an hour in the man's company had made Rocket realize his fears that Stark might dissect him were unfounded. He had made several pointed comments about the implants and prostheses forcing Rocket into a humanoid posture that made it clear, however, that agreeing to the wrong thing could end up with him on an operating table while Stark tried to overclock his joints.

Quill was in the shower when Rocket got back to their room. He settled on the bed with the package from Wakanda. It felt...heavy. He wasn't certain if this was the sort of thing to spring on Quill now, or later on.

The door opened; Rocket directed as little attention as he needed to confirm it was Quill, but otherwise didn't turn away from the package.

"Hey, Rocky, what's up?"

"Got you a present, Quill. Guess you get it now." Rocket held up the package, wrapped in some padded insulation.

Quill took it carefully, settling next to Rocket in his boxer briefs (blue-grey, hugging his ass nicely). He turned the package over a few times, one eyebrow raising at the Wakandan return address. "Did you get me, like, new rocket boots or something?"

Rocket shook his head; he felt a sudden spike of apprehension. It had seemed like a great idea when he'd first come up with it, but now…

He was handing Quill some heavy shit, and hadn't prepared him for any of it.

Flark, he was a terrible boyfriend.

Rocket fumbled for Quill's hand, stopping him before he could open the package. Quill stared at Rocket, eyes wide. He tilted his head, curious.

"If you don't want me to open it-"

"I just want you to know-" Rocket blurted, "I never really figured out if this was something you wanted. Or not. So...if it isn't something you want, don't...don't use it."

Quill nodded, and picked the package open, more slowly. When he removed the bottle, small, crystalline, painted with a silver heart, he frowned at it.

"What am I looking at?"

"It's - Wakanda, they've got this plant that - does a whole bunch of shit, like the serum you pumped Captain America full of. But it's got this - side-effect, I guess. Talked Spider-dude into talking their head scientist to try to isolate that part of the plant, get me something I could give you without giving you superpowers."

"Wait, what, I could've had superpowers?"

"Wouldn't have let it out of the country if it did, Baby Boo."

"So...what's the side effect?"

Rocket swallowed. "I don't know - they couldn't tell me - if it's hallucinations, or magic, or some weird spiritual shit, but - you get a vision. Of one of your loved ones. One of the dead ones. Conversations and shit. Closure, sometimes."

When he looked up, Quill was staring at the vial, eyes wet at the edges, lips parted, hand shaking. He glanced at Rocket for just a second before his gaze drifted back to the vial and the innocuous, transparent fluid inside.

"Like I said, Baby Boo, it might be too much. I didn't think-"

Quill ducked down, pulled Rocket into a fierce kiss, an insistent press against his lips before he pulled back, and he had a helpless smile on his face. "Damn, Rocky. This is…"

He didn't sound upset, so Rocket shifted back, closer, and nudged Quill's knee. "Figured you couldn't pick one of these up on Xandar."

Quill laughed, shaky, and dropped the hand holding the vial, clenched tight around it, to the surface of the bed. "Rocky, I wanna - I'm gonna-" He gestured helplessly. "Just get over here."

"Quill?"

"Just-" When Rocket was close enough, Quill pulled him close, arm wrapped loosely around Rocket's back. "I need you here. Now. When whatever this does...happens. Okay?"

Rocket pressed his hands against Quill's bare chest, tucked his head under Quill's chin, and nodded. "Yeah. Do whatever you need to, Baby Boo."

"Good. I...love you, you know that, Rocky?"

"Yeah, picked that idea up somewhere."

"No returns."

"Yeah."

Quill downed the fluid in the flask in one gulp and then…

He wasn't unconscious, exactly. But his eyes were unfocused, darting with the speed of dreaming. His arms slipped loose, but Rocket stayed tucked up against Quill as the fit, or vision, or visitation, worked its way through him. Minutes passed that way, the slow, steady beat of Quill's heart marking time as he dreamed of whatever dead the draught called to him (there wasn't much point in wondering, but Rocket could offer Quill the decency of pretending he didn't know the inside of Quill's head).

At long last, Quill stirred. Rocket pulled back a bit, looking up at him. Quill was smiling, technically, but his eyes were wet, and when he saw Rocket looking, pulled him in and pressed his forehead against Rocket's.

"Um...you alright, Baby Boo?"

Quill's breath quavered, but he nodded against' Rocket's head. "Yeah. Just...I wasn't going to have a chance to talk to her ever again. I didn't know what to talk about."

"Come on, she hasn't laid eyes on you for, like, decades - had to be delighted just to see your stupid face again. Know I would."

"Heh, Rocky. You're sweet." There was silence a moment. "I mostly talked about you. First chance to talk to her in years, and what do I talk about?"

"Flark, I'm sorry, Quill."

"Hey, acting like it's a chore, talking about you." Quill ran a hand along Rocket's shoulder blades. "Wanted to tell her what I was up to. A lot of what I was up to before we met wasn't stuff you'd tell your mom. And since then, it's all world-saving, which is just the same shit every day, and you guys. You."

"You...she didn't say anything, did she?" Rocket wasn't certain how he could compete with the disapproval of the ghost of Quill's mother, even if she was just a hallucination."

"Yeah, lady who dated a _planet_ has something to say about my choice in boyfriend. But come on; she'd love you, just like I do."

"Wish…" It was hard to wish Ego hadn't killed her, given how the tortuous path from that was what had led Quill to Rocket. "It'd be nice to talk to her. Thank her. For you know."

"Yeah," Quill murmured. He squeezed Rocket's shoulder and pulled away. "I should get dressed. We're going to be late for dinner."

"Not much of a problem. Stark's got the whole place open just for us. Because we're 'apocalypse buddies'. And listening to him spend half an hour looking for the best phrase for that was _torture_ , Quill."

"Well, I'm starving."

"Okay, can't have that. Get up and get some pants."

It was weird, eating in an empty restaurant, easy to remember, every now and again, that there wasn't anyone there. Quill kept smiling at Rocket, that doofy expression that made it obvious to anyone who looked at him that he was infatuated. Kept one foot rested on Rocket's chair, poking him at irregular intervals.

Halfway through their meal, Quill did it again, tickling Rocket's side. He lurched away. "What is _up_ with you, Quil?"

"Sorry." Quill shrugged, still smiling. "How's the chicken?"

"Covered in cheese and meat sauce. Decent. Seriously, what's going on here?"

"I took you out for our anniversary, Rocky."

"Yeah..."

"Come on, isn't it wild we've got an anniversary? We've been together a _year_ , Rocky."

"Yeah, sort of the point of the dinner and presents thing."

"Oh, flark!" Quill sat up straight, fumbling at his pockets. "I forgot! I got you a present, too. Was gonna wait til after dinner, but then you pulled out _your_ present..." He slapped a folded sheaf of paper on the table before leaning back, grinning, wide, smug. "It's no 'giving you a chance to find closure with the death of your loved ones', but I think you'll like it."

"Hm, we'll see." Rocket took the papers. They were written in one of the like three languages Rocket actually knew, so his translators weren't fighting to force written words through his eyes. "Deed of Title? What the flark is this?"

"I, uh. There's like, twelve governments that cover 80 percent of the space we spend our time in. So I spent a couple of weeks, you know, doing paperwork."

"Who did you get to print this shit out on real paper? And what is it..." Rocket paused, because he'd reached a key phrase.

'Peter Quill and Rocket, joint owners with rights of survivorship.'

He looked up at Quill, who was just...watching him. "Quill?"

"It means you own half the ship. Well, sort of. I don't get all the legal connotations, but you've got as much right to it as I do. And if I kick the bucket, it's yours."

Rocket stared at the paper, scanning that one phrase over and over. 'Joint owners' kept playing through his head on a loop; the rest was static.

He was certain, if Quill had just given him the ship, he'd have made a joke and taken it. He was well beyond feeling guilty accepting things from Quill, and he would've said yesterday it didn't matter who a dozen galactic governments and Terra thought owned the ship. It was the team's.

Well, Quill's and Rocket's, apparently.

"You got me a ship."

"Well, like half a ship. It's not like you haven't put enough time and energy patching it up and improving it that it isn't half yours anyway. Plus, it's my home, and I thought you should have a claim to it."

"You got me _your_ ship."

"Well, half."

" _We_ have a ship."

"Yeah." Quill sat back, clicking his tongue, flashing a grin at Rocket.

"I never had a ship."

"What? How'd you get around?"

"I mean, I had a ship. Just not one I bought, or anyone gave me."

Quill's eyes lit up. "Rocky, were you a _space pirate_?"

"No! I mean, I picked up a couple of ships where the owner misplaced the keys, and once or twice...sort of inherited a ship." Rocket resisted the urge to droop under Quill's gaze.

"By inherited, you mean…"

"Look, sometimes, perfectly legal bounty hunting gets a little out of hand, and then you've got a body and a functional ship laying around that'd otherwise go to waste."

"Hate to break it to you, Rocky, but that's piracy. In space. Which makes it space piracy." Quill grinned. "This is...literally one of my childhood dreams."

"You're joking."

"I mean, before I got kidnapped by the Ravagers, who are _also_ space pirates, but substantially less attractive than you, on average. But yeah, little baby Quill dreamed of roaming the galaxy with a space pirate. And if I'd known space pirates came in sentient, anthropomorphic raccoon form, I would have held onto the dream a little longer."

"Come on, Quill, you _got me_ already, you don't need to drag out the sappy shit."

"Just living my truth, Rocky." Quill leaned across the table, smirking. "My eight-year-old self would have thought it was _so cool_ I have a raccoon space-pirate boyfriend." He grabbed a breadstick and leaned back. "I mean, the parts I wouldn't have thought were gross because I was, you know, 8." He grinned. "Wanna head back to our ship?"

 _Their_ ship.

"Yeah, sure," Rocket said. "Do we leave a tip, or did Stark cover that?"

Quill dug in one of his pockets. "I have twenty credits, which they probably can't exchange down here, and a Zune."

"Yeah, and all I got is a spare detonator and half a dozen crystal displays."

"Alright. Hey, thanks, dudes! Sorry about interrupting your, um, Infinity Day, celebrations - if there's anything we can do-"

Quill ended up giving up half a dozen signatures, and Rocket let the kitchen staff take a picture with him. And then they were back in the car on their way back to the ship. It took a minute, after settling, for Rocket to realize Quill's hand was on his thigh, rubbing gently. Quill was looking down on Rocket fondly; Rocket leaned in, snuggling against Quill's side, digging his claws into the metal loops to hold himself close.

"You're not tired, are you, Rocky?"

"Aw, don't worry, Baby Boo, not gonna make you go to bed with blue balls on your anniversary."

"Come on, that's not what I meant," Quill grumbled, pulling his hand up to scratch at Rocket's ears. "I love you, and think you're sexy as hell, but we don't need to bang all the time. Steve hooks me up with movies he likes every time we pass through Terra, so we can hole up in our room and, I think it's called 'Netflix and chill'?"

"Didn't tell you to move your hand, Quill," Rocket retorted. When Quill's hand returned to Rocket's thigh, he let out a pleased rumble and ducked his head under Quill's arm. " _There_ we go." It was nice, the gentle circles soothing, intimate. Sexy, if they were gonna get to it, but otherwise, relaxing. Sure, it'd taken a while to get used to Quill touching him casually, but once it'd gone past something Rocket had to acclimate himself to, once he knew he could expect no pain from Quill's hands on him, that Quill's touch was there only as long as Rocket wanted it, it'd become a refuge.

When Quill nudged Rocket, he realized they'd stopped, had maybe been stopped outside the ship for a while. Rocket waved off Quill's offer to carry him, leading them back up onto the ship. Because certain promises had been made regarding the evening's activities, Rocket made a diversion to the kitchen, bringing a bounty of snacks to their room. Quill raised his eyebrows at the sight of Rocket entering with the bags of cheesy stars, pretzels, and a snack called 'gummy bears' that were apparently made out of bone marrow or some shit.

"What?" Rocket demanded, feeling a spark of anxiety. "You said movies, I got snacks."

"It's nothing, dude, just every single one of those bags is bigger than your head."

Rocket pitched the gummy bears at Quill's head, scrambling up onto the bed after them. Quill'd set his datapad inclined on the bed, so they could watch it reclined. Quill was sitting up against their nest of pillows, and patted his lap.

"Nuh-uh, Baby Boo." Rocket tugged Quill down until he was sprawled on his stomach, close enough to reach the controls of the pad. Rocket climbed on top of him, stretching out so he could drape effectively over Quill's back. " _There_ we go."

Quill twisted his head around, half-grinning at Rocket. "Comfy?"

"Not as comfortable as your stomach, but what the hell, figured you could use a backrub."

Quill hummed, pleased, and reached out to start the first movie, which was about _space pirates_. Quill was enraptured, presumably seeing himself in the reckless asshole kid taken under the wing of a vicious smuggler. It gave Rocket time to get a nice backrub in, without a lot of backtalk or commentary. Quill still got a little hesitant about shit like this, which was flarking weird; he got that Rocket was as good with giving _blowjobs_ as getting them, but worried he was taking advantage when Rocket gave him a massage, like the asshole didn't paw over Rocket at every opportunity. Didn't get there were therapeutic benefits to having a relaxed, pliant humie to sit on, that turning cocky little shit Peter Quill into a pleased, quiet lump was an _accomplishment_. 

And not to sound like a jealous asshole, but Quill, like Rocket, hadn't had that sort of casually affectionate relationship before. No one else had gotten to help make these quiet moments pleasant, and the knowledge that experience was Rocket's and no one else's, warmed Rocket.

As the movie ended, Rocket was still gently kneading at Quill's shoulders with his knuckles. Quill huffed and half-turned, sending Rocket scrambling to avoid being dumped onto the mattress. He looked drowsy, pleased, though.

"What the flark, Quill? Give a guy some warning next time, huh?"

Quill's eyes went wide, pleading, and Rocket scowled because he wasn't falling for that shit. "Come on, Rocky; you can't deny me a good cuddle buddy."

At the reminder, Rocket sat up straighter, grinned at Quill, a toothy smile Quill had confided to Rocket he loved, because it could herald insane risks, sexy times, or, as in this case, a present. It took a moment to find the bag Rocket had brought back with him, and to return, presenting it proudly to Quill. Quill glanced at the front of the bag and raised one eyebrow.

"Build a Bear? What _is_ this?"

"If you opened the bag, you could find out instead of wasting everyone's time."

Quill pulled open the bag and...stared, quiet long enough that Rocket felt a thread of anxiety in his chest. Sure, Quill'd been thrilled with his other present, but there was still a nagging worry that it wasn't good enough.

And then Quill laughed and tugged out the stuffed 'raccoon' (someone was gonna have to set Terra straight about that stupid word) out of the bag. It actually looked a lot like Rocket, except for the doofy smile. It was wearing a grey jumpsuit the store had advertised as a 'spacesuit', and was...plumper than Rocket, at Stark's recommendation, because this thing had none of Rocket's natural charm to bolster its huggability.

"Oh my _god_ , where did you get this?"

"They sell 'em all over Terra, because I am badass _and_ adorable." That earned a bright grin from Quill, who kissed the top of Rocket's head before looking the stuffed toy over. "Figured if you're alone and desperate for a cuddle, you can use this."

"Aww." Quill set the stuffed Rocket aside and tugged Rocket closer by his hand. "It's cute and all, but it's not getting you out of cuddle time."

"I wasn't-" Rocket glowered when he saw Quill's grin, realized Quill was _messing_ with him. "You're an asshole, Quill. Fine." He dropped onto the mattress, grumbling for the show of it as Quill settled...not quite on top of him. Well, almost, because Quill paused, halfway down, looking down at Rocket.

"You okay, Rocky?"

" _Yes_ , Quill, I am _down_ for a good cuddle, you are just a persistent ass." They watched the next movie like that, Rocket bracketed by Quill's arm and Quill's bulk, solid, warm, and braced so he was just about not pinning Rocket to the bed. Rocket sprawled out that way, hand brushing against Quill's chest as he did so, and just basked. Rocket loved talking with Quill, was flarking _ecstatic_ about the sex, but this was the life, a quiet place Rocket didn't have to fight for respect, could be a lazy, pathetic, needy lump without losing a single bit of the affection this man had for him. He barely saw the movie, and, from the occasional starts when Quill began leaning harder on him, Quill wasn't all there, either.

Rocket elbowed Quill, gently, in the ribs. "Think it's bedtime, Baby Boo."

"I'm fine," Quill mumbled into the mattress. "M'awake."

"You fall asleep on top of me and I'm biting you." Quill's expression shifted to a slow smile, smug, and Rocket felt his face flush. "I don't mean like _that_ , you pervert." He shoved Quill again, who went willingly, sliding over so his arm was less pressing Rocket into his body and more draped over his back.

"Better, sweetie?"

"Egh." Rocket wriggled a little before pulling away, yanking his shirt off and throwing it almost toward the laundry basket, struggling out of his pants, and then flopping back down next to Quill, clad only in his underwear. He shivered a little in the cool air and shifted closer to Quill. "You should take your pants off, too. And stop making that face; if I wanted to screw you, I'd say so."

Quill chuckled and in a moment his pants, and shirt, joined Rocket's and he settled back down next to Rocket. He made a surprised hum when Rocket slid closer, flush with Quill's torso, but didn't comment, just tucked his arm closer around Rocket. They got through two more movies like that, Rocket luxuriating in the feel of bare skin - _Quill's_ skin - against his fur. _This_ was the best, not only because of the shared warmth and touch, but because Rocket had fought to get it, to let Quill see the parts of himself that made him feel most vulnerable, to give Quill the chance to prove he wouldn't cross any line Rocket set down, to where Rocket _could_ enjoy being held against Quill's naked torso, the beat of his boyfriend's heart against Rocket's side a comforting rhythm.

He realized, vaguely, drowsing in that loose embrace, he gave Quill something similar. Quill never tried to be cool around Rocket, when it was just the two of them. He never tried to be smooth, never hunched in on himself Rocket called him a dork, because somehow Rocket made Quill feel like he didn't need to pretend.

A year of doing that gave Rocket the cautious hope that this...wasn't a thing that had to end someday. That he wasn't gonna screw this up, wasn't gonna make Quill lose patience.

That maybe Rocket hadn't been tricking Quill into giving him something he didn't deserve, but had been earning it all along.

It was a wild thought, but every day Quill seemed happy with Rocket, seemed to be made happy _by_ Rocket, it seemed a little more plausible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit I am taking wild liberties with anything and everything having to do with the weird Wakandan plants.


	5. Asking First

Rocket had noticed the knives shortly after they arrived on Pataxia. Like, fancy knives he kept seeing on people. It wasn't a class thing, he thought, or gender (unless the Pataxians' physical differences weren't related to sex, at which point he could at least get behind an unambiguous denotation if they wanted people to know offhand). They pretty much looked functional - sturdy and unlikely to snap in a fight - but, like, decorative, too.

Quill must have noticed, and been reminded how much Rocket liked it when Quill found him clothing that highlighted his assets without sacrificing basic functionality, because when they finally tracked down their mark, _and_ brought her in with almost no collateral damage, Quill'd dragged Rocket off to the markets rather than immediately join the others at the nearest bar.

"This better be good - I've heard good things about Pataxian liquor, and I intend to get the most out of it before we're back to gallivanting around the universe."

Quill, grinning, shoved Rocket into a shop, a place all metal and glass, smooth, well-lit, staffed by a Pataxian, bald, midnight-blue skin, wide, toothless mouth stretched in what Rocket guessed was a smile.

"Welcome! How may I help you?"

"I think we were gonna look around on our own for a bit, is that okay?"

"Oh, yes. Certainly. Tell me if you need help." There were a few knots of customers looking at the displays, which gave Rocket enough cover not to feel like the cashier was staring at him. Most of the rest were Pataxian, although another pair of humanoids were in deep discussion over a set of knives kept in a transparent case.

A quick scan confirmed that the rest of the store's stock was, in fact, knives, varying in size, ornamentation, and material. Rocket spent a happy twenty minutes looking over all of them. He wasn't, you know, big on knives, usually, but something about the Pataxian style, the functional craftsmanship, ornamentation that didn't look like it'd ruin the balance, and sheer variety, appealed to him.

He glanced sidelong at Quill who was not looking at knives, but watching Rocket, making it clear the purpose of this expedition was for Quill to get his trigger-happy boyfriend a fancy knife to threaten people in bars with.

He felt a wash of affection for the idiot, gave him a sharp-toothed grin before returning to examine the stock. And then he found it. Six-inch blade, slim, sharp, and…

“Hey, is this vibranium?”

“The flark-“ Quill was at Rocket’s side before the attendant was, staring in wonder at the blade. “Holy…”

The attendant was there, peering down at the item. “Oh yes, our resident craftsman has a contact with knowledge of vibranium deposits. Quite rare, as you must know.”

“I love it,” Rocket breathed. Sure, it wasn’t a kickass robot arm, but it was beautiful. “Quill-“

“Yeah, we’ll take that.”

“We - oh! Of course!” The attendant straightened, six-fingered hands pressed together. “And may I be so bold to suggest something for you, sir?” This last was directed at Quill, who looked a little confused.

“Oh, I hadn’t really-“

The attendant, however, seemed to take that as an affirmative answer, as they were escorting Rocket and Quill around the store, discussing the artistic merits of the weapons, no mention of balance, strength, or sharpness. Rocket was beginning to suspect these knives were not meant to be used to prove points with assholes in bars.

Quill eventually found a stout blade with a vibranium spine, and the attendant happily took their money, chattering excitedly the whole time.

“And let me be the first to congratulate you two.”

Quill raised one eyebrow. “Uh, sure, thanks dude.”

Rocket strapped his knife into the holster along the side of his favorite coat, the walking armory Quill’d got him for their first date, the moment they were outside. Quill played a moment with his, testing the balance before swapping it out for the short blade he kept next to his blaster.

“Alright, let’s find the rest of the team.”

They were at a bar not too far away, but by the time they arrived, Rocket was on edge. Pataxia wasn’t a stranger to interplanetary visitors, but Rocket kept getting long stares, enough that he felt ready to try his new knife on someone, nothing fatal, just a warning.

“Hey, you alright, Rocky?”

“People’re staring,” Rocket grumbled.

Quill took a quick look around, flipped a particularly attentive onlooker his middle finger, and ushered Rocket into the bar ahead of him.

Quill immediately got involved in some sort of weird dice game that involved a lot of punching with Gamora, while Rocket headed to the bar. Mantis was there, sipping something which, from Rocket’s experience, was the lowest proof fluid they’d sell her.

“I see Peter got you a present.”

“Yeah, thought I needed help fending off admirers.” 

Mantis frowned, thoughtfully. “I would gladly help drive such people away; violence shouldn’t be necessary.”

“Chill, Mantis. I’m messing with you. Quill saw me staring at the knives everyone around here carries and wanted to do something nice for me.” He huffed into his drink. “Does a lot for me.”

“You do a lot for him.”

“Yeah, but not-“ Rocket waved his free hand vaguely. “I make him shit to fight with, keep h - our ship working. Never find some dumbass little thing and just wanna get it for him.”

Mantis hummed, and reached out a hand, hovering over Rocket’s wrist until he nodded. She draped her fingers over his wrist and closed her eyes, taking in whatever emotions were washing closest to the surface. It _was_ an efficient way to communicate with Mantis, and one Rocket was more than happy to engage in now that she’d learned to _ask_ before rooting around in people’s heads.

“You worry you don’t give Peter as much as he gives you.”

Rocket shrugged, knowing he didn’t need to clarify exactly what he meant, thinking that. “Don’t wanna place it all on him, but I - I’m _happy_ , you know? Makes me know how much he loves me and all that stupid junk.”

“I don’t think Peter would be offended if I tell you _he_ is happy too.” Rocket’s heart skipped, a little light. Of course Quill _told_ him shit like that, but hearing it from Mantis was, like _evidence_. “And...sometimes it is difficult to concentrate when you are nearby him, because I feel-“ Mantis let out a sound that apparently did not translate. She frowned. “I do not think you appreciate how much happier he is around you.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And…” Mantis’ voice fell a little, “He has confided in me he feels _blessed_ by the intimacy you allow him.”

Rocket wouldn’t have blushed if they’d been talking about sex. He knew where he stood with that (d’ast good at it, as Quill would attest). Talking about the way Quill’d rub Rocket’s back absent-mindedly, the way Rocket would doze draped over Quill’s lap, the fact that Quill could tug at Rocket’s ears without losing the arm, hand, or fingers responsible, felt more personal, somehow.

"Well, I guess being around me's its own reward."

"Hey, mind if I get you a drink?"

Rocket turned, paused, finding a humanoid of unknown origin, dark red skin, short-cut hair, and a wide, easy grin, smiling at him.

He'd been getting more attention, lately, in places like this. Before Quill, he'd have to fight for most attention from people he was interested in, but now he got, like, approached. He'd started making a game of it, seeing if they got the hint he wasn't interested before Quill noticed and went all 'possessive boyfriend' on them (or, in the case of that arms dealer, realize he was giving off the wrong vibes only _when_ Quill showed up).

So, smirking, he turned to the stranger, whose gaze suddenly flicked away from Rocket's face - not, as happened with the less classy types, to his crotch, but to his shoulder. The person's skin darkened, and they pushed themselves up hurriedly.

"Sorry," they apologized. "I didn't - have a good night, and congratulations!"

"What. The. Flark." He looked back at Mantis, who shrugged. Rocket gave his arm a careful sniff; although _he'd_ gone noseblind to it, some species with keener noses could smell Quill on him and made unwarranted, but generally accurate, assumptions about the nature of their relationship. That left the only other explanation as…

Well, he had no idea.

Rocket considered the relative merits of figuring out what the hell was going on and just continuing to drink. As the only noticeable effect of this had been a little attention and someone getting the message _before_ Quill draped himself over Rocket, Rocket decided more booze was the answer.

"Another round!"

"Oh, certainly." The bartender stopped in front of Rocket, glancing at his side. "Oh! I would've given you one on the house if I'd noticed earlier. Congratulations; I wish you luck."

On one hand, free booze. On the other, answers. "Okay, you're the third person to say that to me in the last hour, so I'm gonna need an explanation."

"Oh dear." The bartender ducked their head and leaned in close to Rocket. "You're wearing an _engagement knife_."

"What."

"You'd get a proper sheath for the wedding, of course, but for now-"

So first, Pataxians were apparently a lot cooler than Rocket had been giving them credit for, because a well-made knife was a hell of a lot better engagement present than _jewelry_.

But second…

"What. Why didn't the place have a flarking sign?"

Ugh, it probably _had_. Rocket's translators, though, refused to work consistently with text, and _Quill_ had probably been too excited about getting Rocket a present to-

Unless.

"I gotta go."

"Rocket-"

"It's fine, Mantis. Need to find Quill."

It wasn't that big of a place, and Quill was, as it turned out, still with the dice players. He grinned when he saw Rocket approaching, like he didn't see Rocket every flarking day.

"Hey, Rocky-"

"Quill, gonna need a straight answer here. What. Is. This?" He pointed at his holstered knife.

Quill stared for a blank moment. "A knife? Are you okay?"

"Are you _sure_ it's just a knife?"

"Oh!" one of the players next to Quill exclaimed. "Congratulations!"

Rocket sighed. "Okay, this is not - you're coming with me." He grabbed one of the loops on Quill's coat (and aside from climbing, they made it a lot easier to drag Quill places) and stalked toward the bathrooms, which should at least be _less_ crowded.

By the time Rocket had locked them in, because if someone walked in on this conversation and congratulated Rocket again, he was going to stab someone with his beautiful engagement knife. "Rocky?" Quill, though, looked a little worried. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Depends. Do you know what this knife is?"

"A present?"

Quill wasn't this good of a liar, which was a bit of a relief. Rocket would like to believe Quill'd _ask_ before giving Rocket something that'd make people think they were engaged. "An _engagement_ present, apparently."

"A what?"

"On Pataxia, when you meet a nice fellow you'd like to marry, you give him a fancy-ass knife. There a special sheath you get at the wedding, I think. I didn't ask a lot of questions, because everyone I talk to is congratulating me on something I'm pretty sure I didn't agree to!" Quill was suddenly close, down at Rocket's level, and Rocket realized he was hyperventilating.

"Rocket, can I-"

Rocket couldn't force words out, but he nodded, and then there was a hand, warm, large, cupping the back of his neck, rubbing gently, almost no pressure.

"It's okay, Rocky. I got you if you want me to. No one's forcing you." Rocket lost a minute or two, but when he came back to himself, he wanted to hide under the sink. It'd been ages since he'd freaked out over feeling trapped, and almost _never_ in relation to something Quill did.

"Flark, that was...sorry, Quill. I knew you didn't do this on purpose, I just-"

"Hey, it's a lot. It's a shock to me, too. We can just put these away and-"

"I _like_ my knife. It's the most beautiful melee weapon I've ever owned. I'm keeping it under my pillow."

"Can you not? It freaks me out when you keep weapons that close to my head. But yeah, I didn't mean you had to ditch the knife; we're off Prataxia tomorrow morning anyway, so it's not like-"

"I'd sorta like to be Rocket Quill."

Quill stopped, stared, and Rocket didn't think he'd seen that look of shock on Quill's face _ever_. He looked...a little panicked, maybe; Rocket tried to tamp down on the rising panic in _his_ chest. Because they were _fine_ , great, and he hadn't _actually_ been thinking about marriage, and maybe Quill would think this was too fast, too much, and that'd be-

"When you say that-"

"Look, we're cool. Great. Hadn't really thought about - but now that's it's, like, out there...being married to you would be pretty cool, too." He let that sit for a beat. "You know, if you want."

"Holy flark, _yes_ , dude!"

And Quill's mouth was like, right there, at Rocket's level, so he lunged forward, teeth scraping against Quill's lips a bit as licked at Quill; it took a second before Quill reciprocated, pecks of his lips around Rocket's mouth, the careful draw of his tongue along Rocket's teeth. Rocket shivered, a little.

"You okay, Rocky?"

"'M fine, Baby Boo." Rocket felt a surge of affection, love, heat, and then scrambled up, pushing Quill up as well.

"What are you-?"

"Gonna _celebrate_ ," Rocket growled, fumbling at Quill's belt.

"Dude, what the-"

Rocket paused, then, looked up at Quill, who looked a little confused, a little worried, but at something he saw in Rocket's eyes he grinned, excited, _aroused_. "Yeah, go ahead."

"Not gonna regret that." Rocket unbuckled Quill's belt, unzipped his pants, and struggled, gracelessly, to pull Quill's underwear out of the way, slapping Quill's hand aside when he tried to help. "I _got_ this." Quill wasn't hard, which was _incredibly_ inconsiderate. Rocket drew a claw along the base of Quill's cock, which twitched, starting to swell.

"Rocky - fuck-"

"Hm, maybe later." He leaned in and lapped at the head of Quill's cock, his scent stronger from having been running around all day, leather, sweat and the bitter tang of ozone that lingered around Quill. Rocket drew his tongue along Quill's foreskin, pushing it down as he took Quill's cock in his mouth, still not at full length, enough to fit in Rocket's mouth without risk of choking. With Rocket slurping at the cock in his mouth, though, that didn't last long; he drew back as Quill's cock swelled, grew to its full size, reaching up to stroke it lazily in his grasp as he looked up at Quill. Quill was watching him, dazed, but smiling, wide, loving, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening.

But Rocket'd blown him in bathrooms at bars before. The only difference was that the guy giving Quill a blowjob was his fiancé-

God, Quill was such a _sap_.

Rocket tightened his grip and began stroking harder, a little tighter as he stroked up, a little looser as he drew down, a rhythmic pulse that could get Quill there _quick_ (they _really_ didn't have time to draw this out). He lapped, slurped at the head of Quill's cock as he continued to stroke, drawing his tongue along the slit. Quill gasped, above him, and Rocket knew he was close. He sank down a little, pulling Quill's cock down to lie flat against his tongue, and gave Quill a few more firm strokes, a little squeeze, and-

He caught the first spurt of Quill's cum, swallowing hurriedly, getting the second, third, in his mouth before he pulled back, one last weak pulse getting on his nose. He swallowed, grinning as he looked up at Quill, who still looked a little shell-shocked.

"Hey." Rocket nudged Quill's hip; he started, and then gave Rocket the widest grin he'd ever seen on Quill's face. Quill dropped down, kissed Rocket fiercely. When he pulled back, still grinning, he wiped at Rocket's nose, licked his hand clean, and then turned that attention to Rocket's nose, which wrinkled at the touch. "Quill, that _tickles_."

"Should have thought about that before-"

"Yeah, yeah. This is my fault. Get yourself zipped up so we can stop fucking in the bathroom like a couple of degenerates."

"We _are_ a couple of degenerates," Quill protested as he stowed himself and zipped, buckled back up.

"But who has to know that?"

When they returned, Gamora smirked at them; one of the other players in the game winked at Rocket.

"Soo," Gamora drawled out. "I hear congratulations are in order."

They had _told_ her. And then Rocket realized to these people's perspectives, he'd dragged his fiancé to the bathroom for like, ten minutes-

He felt his ears heat in embarrassment.

"Oh, yeah! Turns out Rocket thinks vowing to stick with me for the rest of our lives is 'pretty cool'. High praise, you know."

 _Holy_ -

The rest of their _lives_.

Rocket had been proud to make it a _year_ without Quill losing interest. And now Quill sounded excited, _proud_ to be committing to a _lifetime_.

"I mean, I figure, was planning to stick around anyway, why not get presents out of the arrangement?"

Quill huffed and sat next to Gamora. When Rocket took the spot on the bench next to Quill, Quill tugged Rocket into his lap, which was normally embarrassing, but flark, they were getting married, they were celebrating. They could afford to be a little affectionate.

"Don't lie, it's because you _love_ me." Rocket weathered the kiss to the top of his head, because he was actually pretty invested in keeping Quill happy, and also he was already wearing a six-inch piece of vibranium on his shoulder that made it clear to almost everyone in the bar that Quill loved him.

"'Ts why I stick around, Baby Boo, not why I'm marrying you."

"And why _is_ that, exactly?" Gamora's smile made Rocket nervous; he was pretty sure she'd picked up they had _not_ been engaged when they left to the bathroom, and he was not interested in rehashing how they'd got to this point.

"Hey!" Rocket clambered up onto the table. "Next round is on me! I'm celebrating my flarking _engagement_!"

Three hours later, they all returned to the Quadrant, Drax singing some traditional wedding song, Mantis joining along, hesitantly at first until she learned the words, and then with similar enthusiasm, if less volume. Gamora appeared to be the most sober of them, after Groot, but he was slouching along behind them. Quill would have been steadier if Rocket weren't on his shoulders, claws clamped around enough rings to keep him anchored, even when he slipped off Quill's shoulders once.

It was easier to make Quill go where Rocket wanted when he was drunk, even buzzed. Or at least he complained less about being steered. So when they reboarded, he tugged Quill's head, sending him toward their bedroom. "Good night, losers!" Drax had pulled Mantis into an energetic dance that had them both laughing; Gamora, watching, waved at them, while Groot seemed to have retreated to his room.

Once there, Quill fell back onto their bed, forcing Rocket to scramble onto his stomach to avoid being crushed. Quill was grinning, that giant, dopey smile that both made him look like a dork and a stunning, beautiful mess.

"Hey, Rocky."

Rocket snorted. "Hey? We've known each other for _years_. Been sleeping together for like a - year and a half. _Own a ship together_. Are _getting married_."

Quill laughed, still grinning. "Yeah." He reached his arms up, winding them around Rocket. "It's gonna be awesome, right?"

"I don't know; what the hell do I know about being married?"

Quill's arms around Rocket tightened a hair, and have him a wide, slightly worried look. "Then why-"

"I don't know! Obviously I love you - and you're pretty okay-"

"Pretty okay?" Quill grinned, dispelling the concern he might be upset.

"Fine, _great_ , then. Maybe I wanna know you're not going anywhere-"

"You _know_ I'm not-"

"I don't know, with _witnesses_ , then!" Rocket huffed and pressed his head into Quill's chest. "Look, I never had anything I thought I was gonna be able to keep. Never thought I'd have someone who'd let me stay. Maybe I wanna show it off I got that. Plus that stupid Terran thing where you get your spouse's name."

"Huh, you were serious about that."

"...Yeah. I don't _have_ a flarking last name. If I'm gonna have one, might as well be my husband's."

"...Husband."

"Yeah; you marry a dude, he's your husband. Basic logic, there, Quill."

Quill ducked his head down to capture Rocket's mouth in an insistent kiss. "You wanna be my _husband_ , Rocky." He kissed Rocket's nose, cheek, throat, growled against Rocket's throat. His hands drifted down, cupped Rocket's ass, squeezed. "So flarking hot."

"What, me marrying you? That's a little weird, Quill."

"No, _you're_ hot." Quill growled again, sending a shiver down Rocket's spine. He pulled Rocket flush against him, nosing up against Rocket's throat. "Clever hands, smart mouth, brilliant mind, _great_ ass." Quill tugged at Rocket's jacket, pulling it away in a fluid motion, bending in to kiss his ear. He sat, bracing Rocket against him as he stripped off his own jacket, shirt, and then tended to Rocket again, pulling his shirt off in a swift motion, his hand sliding down to the waistband of his pants. He looked down at Rocket, still smiling. "You okay?"

"You will _know_ if I'm not okay. I'm _fine_ , Baby Boo."

Quill kissed Rocket, a slow, gentle progression of lips against his mouth, as he unbuttoned Rocket's pants, tugged them down, leaving Rocket mostly naked in Quill's lap, Rocket hard against Quill's stomach. "Hm. You want me to make love to you, Rocky?"

Rocket's breath hitched, and he could just nod.

"Okay, I'm just…" Rocket was deposited back on the bed as Quill shucked his pants, throwing them to the side, his underwear joining them a moment later. Quill leaned back, smiling coyly, and patted his thighs, a clear invitation. Rocket stripped down and dropped back down on Quill's torso, now fully erect, skin against skin, fur against the length of Quill's stomach, chest.

"Alright, what're we doing?"

Quill hummed again and reached back up to cup Rocket's ass, drag him a bit, before sliding Rocket down, settling him so Rocket's ass was resting against the head of Quill's cock.

"Yeah, okay, this plan _better_ involve lube; I know for a _fact_ we are not out."

Quill chuckled, kissed an ear. "Course, Rocky. Just," he shifted his hips a little, his cock running along Rocket's ass, "enjoying myself."

"Ha, you _like me_ , Quill."

"Alright, if you're going to insist on ruining the mood-" Quill rolled over, nearly crushing the man he allegedly loved to grab a tube of lube from the table next to the bed.

Rocket shoved Quill back over. "Is the plan collapsing my lungs? Because _not_ on board with that."

Quill went, laughing, he caught Rocket, pulling Rocket back on top of him, landing eye-to-eye. Quill grinned. " _Hello_ , Mr. Quill."

 _Oh_.

"You liked hearing that," Quill murmured.

"W - what's it to you?"

"Really?" Quill wrapped an arm across Rocket's back to yes, his ass. "You're playing that card? Eighteen months, Rocky. _Engaged_. I think that means your business is my business. So, how about you try again, _Mr. Quill_?"

Rocket shivered. "Come on, don't make me _explain_ it."

"Never said you had to explain it. Want to hear you say you like it."

"Yeah, fine, I _like_ being the shorter, hotter Mr. Quill."

Quill shrugged. "Alright. I'll run with that. Now, you ready for this?"

"Was ready before you started throwing me around the bed, but sure, go for it."

"Rocky?"

" _Yes_ , you have permission to make sweet love to me." Rocket nipped at Quill's nose. "But if you don't get on with that, that's being revoked."

"Jeez, you're impatient." Quill rolled over onto his knees, keeping his hold on Rocket so he was neither crushed nor dumped unceremoniously back onto the mattress. Quill then set him gently at the head of the bed before scrambling for the entire stock of pillows, propping Rocket up.

And then Quill retrieved the lube. He spread it liberally on his fingers and reached down, brushing a finger along Rocket's entrance. Rocket sighed, letting himself relax against the small, insistent circles of Quill's finger.

"Mmm, you like that, eh, Rocky?"

"You got a nice touch, Baby Boo. Be better if you get that flarking silver tongue over here." Quill obliged, kissing and licking at Rocket's mouth as he continued to massage Rocket. Rocket nipped at Quill's tongue when it slipped into his mouth, earning a pleased hiss from Quill. "Come on, Baby Boo, you can stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

"Come on, I don't like _hurting_ you, Rocky." But Quill did slide a finger into Rocket, just the tip, at first, until Rocket tried to slide down. Quill put a hand to Rocket's chest, not touching, looking down at Rocket, serious. "Lemme just take charge? Or not, you know. Just thought-"

" _Flark_ yes." Rocket let his body relax on the pillows, let his hands fall to his sides. He took a deep breath. "Have your way with me, Quill."

Quill took a shaky breath, and Rocket could almost _feel_ him trying to steady his nerves.

"Just so you know. This taking the lead thing? You will _hear about it_ if you try something I don't like."

Quill let out his breath, almost like a laugh; Rocket could see the tension in his limbs ease. He ducked back down to kiss Rocket, and, one hand on Rocket's shoulder to hold him in place, eased his finger further in, a little more pressure than Rocket was used to at this point in the proceedings, because he _was_ rushing Quill. Quill frowned thoughtfully. "Think I'm gonna just hold here for a minute, okay?"

"I don't know, gonna need some compensation for that."

Quill clicked his tongue. "Can do. I mean, are we talking a kiss, here, or give your dick some attention? I mean, what're you feeling?"

"I want some flarking pressure on my g-spot, but as you are _clearly_ punishing me for something, yeah, let's see what you got planned for my dick."

Quill dropped down, pausing at Rocket's stomach to kiss it, then moved down toward Rocket's cock with slow licks. Rocket was used to getting to participate when they were going slow, so this was...new. He _wanted_ to call it stressful, but nothing was holding him down. No one had a chip in his brain that'd shock him if he disobeyed orders. Just him, agreeing to let Quill run the show at his own pace.

Which right now was flarking _languorous_ , as Quill was hovered just above Rocket's cock, breath warm against Rocket's skin, as Rocket waited, struggling against his desire to surge up and sink his cock into Quill's mouth. But Quill was in charge here, because Rocket trusted him to make this good. So he stayed still, even when Quill took the head of Rocket's cock in his mouth at the same time he pressed the tip of a second finger into Rocket. The combination of suction, the slide of Quill's tongue across the slit of Rocket's cock, and the gentler stretch accommodating the second finger, made _not_ squirming to get one of those fingers on his prostate, or trying to get some control over where Quill's tongue was, an exercise in self-control.

"Okay, not that I'm complaining, Baby Boo-"

"Sorta sounds like a complaint." Rocket regretted speaking, because despite the second finger sliding along the first already in his ass, Quill's mouth was no longer on his cock.

"I'm just saying if you wanna go a little faster-"

"Nuh-uh. This is one of those things I'm gonna savor. First time I get to nail my fiancé. Not like the bathroom blowjob wasn't amazing, but don't you want something special to remember about tonight?"

"Baby Boo, there is _nothing_ about tonight I'm not gonna look back at in my golden years and be flarking thrilled about - even the bit where Gamora and her buddies figured out we screwed in the bathroom."

"Wait, what?"

"But if that's your deal, savor away."

"Well, you make a compelling point." Which hey, meant Quill's mouth was back on Rocket's dick, counterpoint to ooh, _yes_ , a jolt that made Rocket struggle to keep from bucking his hips.

"Yes, you see, this is _exactly_ what I was talking about. If you wanna work the tongue a bit, Quill-"

Quill pulled back away from Rocket's cock, but twitched his finger again, sending a shiver along Rocket's skin. 

"Don't want you coming 'til I've got my dick in you."

Rocket groaned. "Can't just say things like that, Quill, if you're not gonna _do anything_."

"I'm not - I just want you to feel great, sweetie. I _know_ you push yourself sometimes because you get impatient, or don't wanna disappoint me. So you wanna let me run this show, I'm taking it slow." But because he _did_ love Rocket, Quill tested a third finger, stretching cautiously, and licked a stripe up the length of Rocket's cock. "See? Some things are better if you wait for them."

"Yeah, I've been waiting long enough, so come on, Quill."

"You say the sweetest shit, sometimes, Rocky."

"Uh…" Rocket felt a twinge of uncertainty. "I didn't mean-"

"Hey, Rocky." Quill slipped his fingers free and stretched back up, kissed Rocket's nose. "I know two things - well, a lot of things, but two that are relevant right now. First, that you run your mouth a _lot_ -"

"Like you're one to talk."

"And second, that you love me. You're good at showing me that, and I have not doubted that for...a while now. So yeah, if you're ready-"

" _Yes_."

Quill settled over Rocket, hands braced above him, knees framing his body, arched over Rocket. He reached down, fumbling with the lube, coating his cock with a few loose strokes. He clambered forward, taking advantage of Rocket's position sprawled on a stack of pillows to just about line them up. And then Quill pressed forward, cock sliding into Rocket easily, familiarly. Rocket sighed, savoring the stretch of Quill inside him. 

"You okay, Rocky?"

" _Great_ ," Rocket retorted, "if someone would just _move_."

Quill pulled back a bit, tried a gentle, shallow thrust, and then a few deeper, not far enough, deep enough, but good, firm, constant pressure.

"Come on, you know I can flarking take it, Baby Boo." Quill grinned down at Rocket, unrepentant, and Rocket was _done_ , reaching up to pull Quill's head down to his, licking at his lips until Quill laughed, at which point Rocket nipped at his tongue, dropped down, bit gently at his throat.

"Wondered how long it'd take you to break," Quill said, still laughing, though he _did_ roll his hips, driving his cock deeper into Rocket, not quite deep enough, but damn, getting there.

"You're an asshole, Quill."

" _Yours_ , though?"

" _Mine_ ," Rocket growled, and pushed down until he ran up against Quill's crotch, hilted, _filled_ , as he darted back up to lap at Quill's stupid face. "Now come on, let's get this thing _done_."

And Quill obliged, drawing back, angling a bit, and driving back in, a quick brush against Rocket's prostate that made him gasp with the shock of the touch; he was feeling so pent up by Quill's _being a considerate ass_ , he was sure he wasn't going to last long. And then another thrust, another brush, and then Quill just hit it; Rocket shouted at the flare of pleasure, nipped Quill's neck a _little_ harder than he usually did, tasting blood, though from the rumbling groan of the man above him Quill didn't mind. Hell, he picked up speed, sloppy thrusts alternating the pleasant press of Quill into him with quick shocks of pleasure Rocket was too far gone to respond to in any way but a sound Quill had dubbed 'chirps'. He clutched at Quill's shoulders, probably digging in, but got no complaint (although Rocket may have been keeping Quill's mouth too busy to protest without taking his tongue out of Rocket's mouth).

And then Quill's lube-covered hand was on Rocket's cock, stroking easy, light, while he just pumped his hips, licking at Rocket's mouth, hissing every time Rocket chirped in response to a thrust.

Quill's hand reached the base of Rocket's cock, and squeezed just as he plowed in, hit Rocket's prostate, and Rocket _knew_ he drew blood when his hands clenched around Quill's shoulders, pulling himself up against Quill as his gut clenched and cock spurted, losing himself for a minute, head tucked against Quill's throat, body shaking as his nerves sparked.

He came down slowly, still breathing heavily, body loose, Quill propped over him, smiling at Rocket, fond, loving, grinning when Rocket made eye contact.

"Thought I lost you there for a minute, buddy."

"Yeah, yeah, you're Peter Quill, master of the mind-blowing orgasm. You get a prize."

"Already did, Rocky; got you." Quill's grin went wide and he ducked down, kissing Rocket gently, keeping Rocket from having to respond to that sappy asshole. And then Quill wriggled, lowering down to more or less lay on top of Rocket, no weight on him, just the pressure of Quill's torso against Rocket's. 

"Can't say stuff like that," Rocket mumbled, rubbing his fingers gently against the puncture wounds along Quill's shoulders. "Gonna think you like me or something."

"Man, can't have that." Quill pecked at Rocket's nose, pulled back, winked.

"You alright?"

"What? Yeah, I got there, Rocky. Do not worry I didn't enjoy myself; you are a _fantastic_ lay."

Rocket snorted. "I _know_ you came, Quill. Talking about your battle scars up there. Didn't mean to-"

"I'm _sure_ I've mentioned it before, Rocky, don't need to be so gentle if you don't want to be." Quill kissed his nose again. "So I am _good_."

"Yeah, well _I_ am going to be terrible if we let my fur dry like this, so…"

"Aww, poor Rocky. Want me to get you to the shower?"

"...Yes."

Bathrobe-clad Quill ran into Gamora on the way, but thankfully not the Bluntness Twins; she just raised one eyebrow at Rocket tucked against Quill's chest and waved, letting them on their way without comment. The steam that filled the cubicle when Quill turned on the shower just amplified Rocket's sense of lethargy, so he sighed, leaning up against the wall.

"Alright, how about you handle this, seeing as it's your fault I'm a mess?"

And Quill's eyes _lit up_. Even with Quill, Rocket didn't submit to letting people do shit for him often, but Rocket was exhausted, and knew Quill _loved_ taking care of him.

Loose, relaxed, it was nice, comforting to have Quill, crouched down, massaging shampoo all through Rocket's fur, careful of his scars, hugging him close as he rinsed Rocket down. And then, what the hell, Rocket grabbed a couple towels and a brush on the way out, spread the biggest one out on the bed and dropped down, curled up, and gave Quill a pointed look when he gave Rocket a careful, curious tilt of his head.

"Just got engaged, Baby Boo. Deserve a little pampering."

"Well." Quill grinned and clambered up next to Rocket. "If you just got _engaged_. Must be a lucky guy, who snagged a catch like you."

Rocket grumbled a little, but didn't respond. He _was_ tired, and, well, Quill's reflexive flirting was _always_ flattering. Quill grabbed a towel and began rubbing gently at Rocket's fur, starting at his ears, head, like when Rocket curled in his lap during movie nights and got two hours of scratching at his head. And then Quill moved down, gentle ministrations that let Rocket doze, certain nothing was gonna hurt him so long as that towel was patting, rubbing at his fur. He roused, though, when the brush first touched his head, sitting up, leaning back against Quill's stomach.

Rocket _might_ have purred, or whatever the hell that sound Quill insisted on saying Rocket made when he was contented, for most of the time Quill was brushing down his fur, smoothing it out so Rocket didn't look like a flarking brown puffball, bristles tickling along his skin, until at long last it was just Quill brushing absently at Rocket's tail, Rocket curling up against Quill's torso.

"You wanna go to bed, sweetie?"

"Yeah, why not? Already there. Caught a bounty, got engaged, got-" Rocket yawned. " _Thoroughly_ laid." He stood, stalked to the head of the bed and flopped down on top of the sheets. "Now get over here, Baby Boo, need something to cuddle."

"Not your plush toy, Rocky."

"The flark you _aren't_ ," Rocket groused, tucking himself back up against Quill's torso when Quill pulled the sheets away and lay down next to him. "Warm, soft, squishy-" He poked at Quill's stomach, earning a yelp from his fiancé.

"Hey! I'm fit. I'm - buff!"

"You are _not_. You're a gunner and a pilot, Baby Boo. Not exactly ripped like the dudes who spend their whole lives in hand-to-hand." But because he wasn't an _asshole_ , Rocket pressed a hand flat against Quill's stomach, pulled in a little closer. "'Ts all good, though. Can you imagine cuddling up to Captain 'abs of steel' America?"

"I mean-"

"The next words out of your mouth _better not_ be that you had a crush on him when you were like, ten."

"It wasn't! I just - he's a hugger."

"Yeah, well, so're you, and _you've_ got this extra padding, so, there you go, at least _one_ thing you're better at than Captain America."

"What. Really?"

Rocket smirked against Quill's chest. "I mean, I'm sure there's plenty, but this is like an, objective fact."

"Huh. You know he told me to go for it, back at that party." There was a moment of silence. "Well, sort of. Said to go for it if I wanted it bad enough. Which, you know, he walked in on that argument and I was panicking Captain America knew I was gay."

"You're _not_ gay."

There was a shift of Quill's body that suggested he'd shrugged. "Terra doesn't do a lot of nuance when it comes to...well, anything. Anyway, he told me he was bisexual, told me to go for it - we should invite him to the wedding."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that."

"When? It's been like, four hours."

"Yeah, well, gotta entertain myself somehow. _Anyway_ , I figure we got two options. One, find a magistrate out here that'll marry us with like, the crew, and two, let Tony Stark plan our wedding on Terra."

"That can't be our only options."

"I spent ninety minutes in a limo with him shopping for anniversary presents six months ago, and he still sends me messages _every day_. If we get married on Terra, he _will_ find a way to take control of the whole thing."

"Oh god, if we try getting married up here, everybody with a grudge against us is gonna show up at the actual ceremony, aren't they?"

"You see? Quickie wedding in space or media circus back on Terra. Those are our choices."

"I bet Stark would get an amazing photographer-"

"I'm not having my wedding photographed by some ass Stark hired off the street. It's gonna be Spider-dude." Quill pulled back, looking at Rocket curiously, and Rocket cursed himself, realizing he hadn't meant to say that.

"Sounds like you've got an opinion."

"Ugh." Rocket ducked his head to avoid meeting Quill's eyes. "Don't wanna sound all, sentimental or whatever, but I sort of wanna-"

"Make a night of it."

"Want there to be, like, _no doubt_ on the subject of our being married."

"Okay."

"What?"

"Okay," Quill repeated. "I'd love to have our apocalypse buddies at the wedding-"

" _Why_ did that catch on?"

"And getting a professional making sure you look, you know, more amazing than usual is probably a good investment."

"Hmph." Rocket drew a claw gently across Quill's chest. "But yeah, what do you _think_ -"

"Hey, I could go back and forth on this for _days_. Easier to go with whatever _you_ want."

"In that case...we got a plan."

"Yeah, we got a plan."

Rocket huffed, pulled up to lick at Quill's nose, dropped back down as Quill laughed. "Good. Now go to sleep; I can _hear_ it when you stay up, and I need a solid eight hours if I'm gonna deal with Tony Stark in the morning."

"Ha, love you Rocky."

"Mr. Quill, to you, Baby Boo."

"Not yet."

 _Not yet_.

But it was _happening_.


End file.
